Disraeli--Beaconsfield.
No one aided the cause of Canada more readily than Mr. Disraeli, and I
ought to explain how I first gained his confidence and kindness. But
Mr. Philip Rose, who was his solicitor, his friend, his executor; who
had stuck by him "per angusta ad augusta," was of priceless service in
placing before him, from time to time, the facts, affecting
Confederation, as I collected them.
My first acquaintance with Mr. Disraeli was the consequence of my
connection, as an honorary secretary, with the "Manchester Athenaeum," a
literary institute, originated in 1835 by Richard Cobden, on his return
from a visit to his brother in the United States, a country at that
time on the rage for social clubs with classic names. The "Manchester
Athenaeum," owing partly to defective management and architectural
costliness, partly to some years of bad trade and deficient employment,
and partly to an unfortunate sectarian conflict, had fallen into debt
and difficulty; and a few of the younger members, who had profited by
the existence of the institution, came to the rescue, and by various
methods got rid of its debts, and set it fairly on the way again. One
method was, the holding of a great literary soiree in the Manchester
Free Trade Hall. The audience was more than 4,000. The President was
Charles Dickens.
On the morning of the day before the soiree, which took place on
Thursday, the 5th of October, 1843, I received a note, in these terms,
from Mr. Cobden:--
"MOSLEY St,
"_Wednesday_.
"Dear Sir,
"Mr. Benj'n Disraeli, the author of 'Vivian Grey,' is at the Mosely
Arms Hotel, with Mrs. Disraeli.
"I wish you would call and invite them to the soiree.
"Yours truly,
"R. COBDEN.
"Mr. E. Watkin,
"High St."
I print the note exactly as it was written.
It has appeared to me, since, that Mr. Cobden at that time considered
it necessary to identify Mr. Disraeli as Mr. "Benj'n" Disraeli, "the
author of Vivian Grey."
I called accordingly, without delay. Mr. Disraeli was out, but I found
Mrs. Disraeli at home. She was a little, plain, vivacious woman; one
who, like an india-rubber toy, you have only to touch, and it issues
sound. But she was obviously no common-place woman. Her comments upon
what she had seen already in Manchester were acute, and, at times,
decidedly humorous. They were those of a shrewd observer. We became
good friends. She promised, both for herself and her husband, to attend
the soiree; and, in answer to my further request that Mr. Disraeli
would speak, she said, she "could almost promise that he would." The
soiree of the next evening was brilliant. Dickens was at his very best;
and it must have been difficult indeed to follow so admirable a
speaker. But Mr. Disraeli certainly shared the honours and the applause
of this great meeting. His speech, in fact, created so decided a
sensation that I was asked to invite him to preside at the soiree of
the coming year of 1844,--which he did. Few, who heard it, will forget
the eloquent oration he delivered. I cannot forbear, out of place as it
may seem to some, here to quote the concluding portions of this
remarkable address; an address which I have never yet seen amongst the
published speeches of Lord Beaconsfield:--
"If my description of what this institution offers to us, if my view of
what it in some degree supplies, be just, what, I must inquire, is the
reason that an institution, the prosperity of which now cannot be
doubted, but so brief a time ago could have been apparently in the last
stage of its fortunes? It is not an agreeable task--I fear it may be
considered by some an invidious one--if I, who am a stranger among you,
shall attempt to play the critic upon your conduct; but I feel
confidence in your indulgence. I remember the kindness which has placed
me in this honourable position, and therefore I shall venture to
express to you the two reasons to which I think the dangerous state of
our position must fairly be ascribed. I would say, in the first place,
without imputing the slightest fault to the originators of this
institution, wishing to be most distinctly understood as not only not
imputing any fault to them, but most decidedly being of opinion that
the fault does not lie at their door; still I cannot shut my eyes to
the fact that, in the origin of this institution, by circumstances not
foreseen, and which, certainly, were not intended, a party, a limited,
and a sectarian feeling, in some degree pervaded its management. I
confess, myself, that it appears to me that it would have been a marvel
had it been otherwise. When we remember the great changes that had then
but very recently occurred in this country--when we recall to our mind
not only the great changes that had occurred, but the still greater
that were menaced and discussed--when we remember what an influence is
created when local jealousy blends with political passion--it is not
difficult to imagine, because there are none of us present but in their
sphere must have felt its influence--it is not wonderful that men of
different political opinions should look with extreme jealousy upon
each other. A combination of peculiar circumstances that created a
balanced state of parties in those places where the struggle for
dominion and power takes place, very much assisted this feeling; and
that such a feeling existed throughout all England in a degree more
intense and more virulent than has ever been equalled in the history of
this country, I think no man will deny, and all must deplore. For my
own part, I really believe that, had that party and sectarian feeling
proceeded in the same ratio of virulence it has done for the last
twelve or fourteen years, it must have exercised a barbarising
influence upon public sentiments and public manners. There are some
amongst us now, I know, who believe that the period has arrived when a
great effort must be made to emancipate this country from the degrading
thraldom of faction--to terminate, if possible, that extreme, that
sectarian, and limited view, in which all human conduct is examined,
observed, and criticized--to put an end to that exclusiveness, which,
in its peculiar sphere, is equally deleterious as that aristocratical
exclusiveness of manners which has produced so much evil; and, as far
as I can form an opinion, these views have met with sympathy from every
part of the country. I look upon it that to-night--I hope I am not
mistaken--we are met to consummate and to celebrate the emancipation of
this city, at least so far as the Athenaeum extends, from the influence
of these feelings. I hope that our minds and our hearts are alike open
to the true character of this institution, to the necessities which
have created it, to the benefits to which it leads; and happy I shall
be, and all, I am sure, who are assisting me this evening, if it prove
that our efforts, however humble, may have assisted in so delightful
and so desirable a consummation.
"Now that is one of the reasons, and one of the principal reasons, why
I believe a blight seemed to have fallen over our fortunes. I think at
the same time that there is another cause that has exercised an
injurious effect upon the position, until recently, of this
institution. I think that a limited view of its real character has been
taken even by those who were inclined to view it in a spirit of extreme
friendliness. It has been looked upon in the light of a luxury, and not
of a necessity--as a means of enjoyment in the hour of prosperity, from
which we ought to be debarred when the adverse moment has arrived; so
that, when trade was prospering, when all was sunshiny, a man might
condescend to occupy his spare hours in something else than in a
melancholy brooding over the state of the country--that, when returns
were rapid, and profits ready, one might deign to cultivate one's
faculties, and become acquainted with what the mind of Europe was
conceiving or executing; but these were delights to be reserved only
for those chosen hours. Now that, I am bound frankly to say, is not the
view which I take of this question--not the idea which I have formed of
the real character of the Manchester Athenaeum. I look upon it as part
of that great educational movement which is the noble and ennobling
characteristic of the age in which we live. Viewing it in that light, I
cannot consent myself that it should be supported by fits and starts.
The impulse which has given us that movement in modern times, is one
that may be traced to an age that may now be considered comparatively
remote, though the swell of the waters has but recently approached our
own shore. Heretofore society was established necessarily on a very
different principle to that which is now its basis. As civilization has
gradually progressed, it has equalized the physical qualities of man.
Instead of the strong arm, it is the strong head that is now the moving
principle of society. You have disenthroned Force, and placed on her
high seat Intelligence; and the necessary consequence of this great
revolution is, that it has become the duty and the delight equally of
every citizen to cultivate his faculties. The prince of all philosophy
has told you in an immortal apophthegm, so familiar to you all, that it
is now written in your halls and chambers,--'Knowledge is power.' If
that memorable passage had been pursued by the student who first
announced this discovery of that great man to society, he would have
found an oracle not less striking, and, in my mind, certainly not less
true; for Lord Bacon has not only said that 'Knowledge is power,' but
living one century after the discovery of the printing press, he has
also announced to the world that 'Knowledge is pleasure.' Why, when the
great body of mankind had become familiar with this great discovery--
when they learned that a new source was opened to them of influence and
enjoyment--is it wonderful that from that hour the heart of nations has
palpitated with the desire of becoming acquainted with all that has
happened, and with speculating on what may occur? It has indeed
produced upon the popular intellect an influence almost as great as--I
might say analogous to--the great change which was produced upon the
old commercial world by the discovery of the Americas. A new standard
of value was introduced, and, after this, to be distinguished--man must
be intellectual. Nor, indeed, am I surprised that this feeling has so
powerfully influenced our race; for the idea that human happiness is
dependent on the cultivation of the mind, and on the discovery of
truth, is, next to the conviction of our immortality, the idea the most
full of consolation to man; for the cultivation of the mind has no
limits, and truth is the only thing that is eternal. Indeed, when you
consider what a man is who knows only what is passing under his own
eyes, and what the condition of the same man must be who belongs to an
institution like the one which has assembled us together to-night, is
it--ought it to be--a matter of surprise that, from that moment to the
present, you have had a general feeling throughout the civilized world
in favour of the diffusion of knowledge? A man who knows nothing but
the history of the passing hour--who knows nothing of the history of
the past but that a certain person, whose brain was as vacant as his
own, occupied the same house as himself, who in a moment of despondency
or of gloom has no hope in the morrow because he has read nothing that
has taught him that to-morrow has any changes--that man, compared with
him who has read the most ordinary abridgment of history, or the most
common philosophical speculation, is as distinct and different an
animal as if he had fallen from some other planet, was influenced by a
different organization, working for a different end, and hoping for a
different result. It is knowledge that equalizes the social condition
of man--that gives to all, however different their political position,
passions which are in common and enjoyments which are universal.
Knowledge is like the mystic ladder in the patriarch's dream. Its base
rests on the primaeval earth--its crest is lost in the shadowy splendour
of the empyrean; while the great authors, who for traditionary ages
have held the chain of science and philosophy, of poesy and erudition,
are the angels ascending and descending the sacred scale, and
maintaining, as it were, the communication between man and heaven. This
feeling is so universal that there is no combination of society in any
age in which it has not developed itself. It may, indeed, be partly
restrained under despotic governments, under peculiar systems of
retarded civilization; but it is a consequence as incidental to the
spirit and the genius of the Christian civilization of Europe as that
the day should follow night, and the stars should shine according to
their laws and order. Why, the very name of the institution that brings
us together illustrates the fact--I can recall, and I think I see more
than one gentleman around me who equally can recall, the hours in which
we wandered amid
"Fields that cool Ilyssus laves.
At least, there is my honorable friend the member for Stockport (Mr.
Cobden), who has a lively recollection of that classic stream, for I
remember one of the most effective allusions he made to it in one of
the most admirable speeches I ever listened to. But, notwithstanding
that allusion, I would still appeal to the poetry of his constitution,
and I know it abounds in that quality. I am sure that he could not have
looked without emotion on that immortal scene. I still can remember
that olive-covered plain, that sunset crag, that citadel fane of
ineffable beauty! That was a brilliant civilization, developed by a
gifted race more than two thousand years ago, at a time when the
ancestors of the manufacturers of Manchester, who now clothe the world,
were themselves covered with skins, and tattooed like the red men of
the wilderness. But influences more powerful even than the awful lapse
of time separate and distinguish you from that race. They were the
children of the sun; you live in a distant, a rugged, and northern
clime. They bowed before different altars; they followed different
customs; they were modified by different manners. Votaries of the
Beautiful, they sought in Art the means of embodying their passionate
conceptions: you have devoted your energies to Utility; and by the
means of a power almost unknown to antiquity, by its miraculous
agencies, you have applied its creative force to every combination of
human circumstances that could produce your objects. Yet, amid the toil
and triumphs of your scientific industry, upon you there comes the
undefinable, the irresistible yearning for intellectual refinement--you
build an edifice consecrated to those beautiful emotions and to those
civilizing studies in which they excelled, and you impress upon its
front a name taken from--
"Where on AEgean shores a city rose,
Built nobly, dear the air, and light the soil,
Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts
And eloquence."
Beautiful triumph of immortal genius! Sublime incentive to eternal
fame! Then, when the feeling is so universal, when it is one which
modern civilization is nurturing and developing, who does not feel that
it is not only the most benevolent, but the most politic thing you can
do to avail yourselves of its influence, and to direct in every way the
formation of that character upon which intellect must necessarily now
exercise an irresistible influence? We cannot shut our eyes any longer
to the immense revolution. Knowledge is no longer a lonely eremite,
affording a chance and captivating hospitality to some wandering
pilgrim; knowledge is now found in the market-place, a citizen, and a
leader of citizens. The spirit has touched the multitude; it has
impregnated the mass--
"----Totamque infusa per artus,
Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet.
"I would yet say one word to those for whom this institution is not
entirely but principally formed. I would address myself to that youth
on whom the hopes of all societies repose and depend. I doubt not that
they feel conscious of the position which they occupy--a position
which, under all circumstances, at all periods, in every clime and
country, is one replete with duty. The youth of a nation are the
trustees of posterity; but the youth I address have duties peculiar to
the position which they occupy. They are the rising generation of a
society unprecedented in the history of the world; that is at once
powerful and new. In other parts of the kingdom the remains of an
ancient civilization are prepared ever to guide, to cultivate, to
influence, the rising mind; but they are born in a miraculous creation
of novel powers, and it is rather a providential instinct that has
developed the necessary means of maintaining the order of your new
civilization than the matured foresight of man. This is their
inheritance. They will be called on to perform duties--great duties. I,
for one, wish, for their sakes and for the sake of my country, that
they may be performed greatly. I give to them that counsel which I have
ever given to youth, and which I believe to be the wisest and the best
--I tell them to aspire. I believe that the man who does not look up
will look down; and that the spirit that does not dare to soar is
destined perhaps to grovel. Every individual is entitled to aspire to
that position which he believes his faculties qualify him to occupy. I
know there are some who look with what I believe is short-sighted
timidity and false prudence upon such views. They are apt to tell us--
'Beware of filling the youthful mind with an impetuous tumult of
turbulent fancies; teach youth, rather, to be content with his
position--do not induce him to fancy that he is that which he is not,
or to aspire to that which he cannot achieve.' In my mind these are
superficial delusions. He who enters the world finds his level. It is
the solitary being, the isolated individual, alone in his solitude, who
may be apt to miscalculate his powers, and misunderstand his character.
But action teaches him the truth, even if it be a stern one.
Association affords him the best criticism in the world, and I will
venture to say, that if he belong to the Athenaeum, though when he
enters it he may think himself a genius, if nature has not given him a
passionate and creative soul, before a week has elapsed he will become
a very sober-minded individual. I wish to damp no youthful ardour. I
can conceive what such an institution would have afforded to the
suggestive mind of a youthful Arkwright. I can conceive what a nursing-
mother such an institution must have been to the brooding genius of
your illustrious and venerated Dalton. It is the asylum of the self-
formed; it is the counsellor of those who want counsel; but it is not a
guide that will mislead, and it is the last place that will fill the
mind of man with false ideas and false conceptions. He reads a
newspaper, and his conceit oozes out after reading a leading article.
He refers to the library, and the calm wisdom of centuries and sages
moderates the rash impulse of juvenescence. He finds new truths in the
lecture-room, and he goes home with a conviction that he is not so
learned as he imagined. In the discussion of a great question with his
equals in station, perhaps he finds he has his superiors in intellect.
These are the means by which the mind of man is brought to a healthy
state, by which that self-knowledge that always has been lauded by
sages may be most securely attained. It is a rule of universal virtue,
and from the senate to the counting-house will be found of universal
application. Then, to the youth of Manchester, representing now the
civic youth of this great county and this great district, I now appeal.
Let it never be said again that the fortunes of this institution were
in danger. Let them take advantage of this hour of prosperity calmly to
examine and deeply to comprehend the character of that institution in
which their best interests are involved, and which for them may afford
a relaxation which brings no pang, and yields information which may
bear them to fortune. It is to them I appeal with confidence, because I
feel I am pleading their cause--with confidence, because in them I
repose my hopes. When nations fall, it is because a degenerate race
intervenes between the class that created and the class that is doomed.
Let them then remember what has been done for them. The leaders of
their community have not been remiss in regard to their interests. Let
them remember, that when the inheritance devolves upon them, they are
not only to enjoy but to improve. They will one day succeed to the high
places of this great community; let them recollect those who lighted
the way for them; and when they have wealth, when they have authority,
when they have power, let it not be said that they were deficient in
public virtue and public spirit. When the torch is delivered to them,
let them also light the path of human progress to educated man."
As time went on, I had many interviews and conversations with Mr. and
Mrs. Disraeli. I learned to appreciate, more and more, that the
oddities attributed to the latter were mainly of society manufacture;
while her fine qualities had been kept in the background by the over-
shadowing ability, and prominence, of her husband. She was a devoted
wife, and the soul of kindness to every one she liked or respected.
Peace and honor to her memory.
In the sad years which followed my misfortune of 1846, previously
alluded to, it was enough for me, wearily, to get through the work of
the day, and then to return to a home where there has always been
sympathy, kindness, and cheerfulness in the darkest and most anxious
hours of laborious and self-denying lives. In those years I rarely saw
any of my old friends of prominence and station. My wife and I lived
the lives of recluses until clouds ceased to lower. Health became
restored, a moderate and augmenting fortune, laid in the foundations of
carefulness, came to us; and we at last emerged into daylight, again.
When in Parliament, in 1857, I made a speech in the House of Commons,
which some thought timely, upon the then pressing question of Indian
railways. Mr. Disraeli did me the honor to listen to what I had to say.
After his lamented death, one of his executors handed back to me, in an
envelope, endorsed in his own hand, the letters which I had written to
him in the years of the Manchester Athenaeum.
I may add, that Mr. Disraeli's ear was always open to me during the
struggles for the Intercolonial Railway as a means, and the
Confederation of the British Provinces in America as the great end, of
our efforts. He was strongly in favour of Confederation; and, just as
we owe the establishment of a Crown Colony in British Columbia to the
sagacity of Bulwer Lytton, so we owe the final realization of
Confederation, through the passing of an Act by the Queen, Lords, and
Commons of Great Britain and Ireland, to the Government, no less
sagacious on this question, of Lord Beaconsfield.
I think the following letters reflect no discredit upon my motives,--
neither self-seeking nor selfish. At the same time they are further
evidence of Mr. Disraeli's thorough kindness and feeling of justice
towards all who had, in his judgment, "deserved well of their country."
"LONDON,
"_3rd August, 1867_.
"DEAR SIR,
"On my return from Scotland yesterday I learnt, confidentially, that
you had been good enough to propose to present my name to the Queen for
the honour of knighthood, in consideration of my services in connection
with the union of the British North American Provinces under the Crown,
and with their Intercolonial Railway. And I see that a semi-official
statement to that effect is in some of the papers. Will you permit me
to thank you very sincerely for such a recognition of the services of a
political opponent whose known opinions will protect him from the
suspicion of receiving, and you from that of giving, an unworthy
reward.
"But the mail brings me tidings from Canada which convince me that the
French Canadian population at large look upon the course pursued
towards Messrs. Cartier and Langevin in the recent distribution of
honors as an act of indifference towards themselves. It might be
possible, therefore--but you will be the best judge--that the honor now
proposed for me might lead to an aggravation of this feeling of
dissatisfaction, which arises at the very inopportune moment of the
birth of the 'new Dominion.'
"I think, therefore, that I should be as deficient in public duty as in
generosity, if I did not evince my gratitude for your unsolicited
remembrance by saying that, should the difficulty I allude to be found
really to exist, I shall not feel myself slighted or aggrieved should
your kindness proceed no further, pending such an unfortunate state of
feeling.
"I ought to add, that my late most kind and indulgent friend, the Duke
of Newcastle, suggested some little time before his death an even
higher reward for the services, which he alone knew the real extent of;
but at my request it was postponed until--all the manifold difficulties
being one by one cleared away--the great question of policy which he
had so much at heart should be finally realized in legislation.
"Having thus been led almost, to rely upon some adequate recognition of
several years' gratuitous and arduous exertion on both sides of the
Atlantic, I feel the sacrifice I propose to make. But a desire to avoid
aggravating this unfortunate misunderstanding induces me to trouble you
now.
"I have the honour to be, dear Sir,
"Yours very faithfully and obliged,
"E. W. WATKIN.
"THE RT. HON. THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER."
"DOWNING STREET, S.W.
"_August 8, 1867_.
"DEAR SIR,
"I have had the honor of receiving your letter of the 3rd instant, in
which you refer to the rumoured intention of Her Majesty's Government
to recommend your name to the Queen for the honor of knighthood, in
consideration of services connected with the International Colonial
Railway, and the influence of that undertaking on the union of the
British North American Provinces; and in which you state your
apprehension, that such an intention, in consequence of the recent
intelligence from Canada with respect to the distribution of honors,
might prove embarrassing to the Government.
"Under that impression you have, in a manner highly creditable to
yourself, and most considerate to the Government, stated that you
should not feel yourself slighted or aggrieved, if the views of Her
Majesty's Government towards yourself were not proceeded with pending
such an unfortunate feeling in Canada.
"It is quite true that it was the intention of Her Majesty's Government
to recommend to Her Majesty to confer the honor of knighthood on you,
in consideration of your services in question, thereby, as they
believe, fulfilling the purpose of the late Duke of Newcastle, when his
Grace was Secretary of State for the Colonies; but Her Majesty's
Government, appreciating your motives in the suggestion which you have
made, are of opinion that it may be expedient to suspend, for a time,
conferring a distinction on you which, under the peculiar circumstances
of the case, might occasion a painful, though an unfounded, feeling of
jealousy.
"I have the honor to remain,
"Dear Sir, yours faithfully,
"B. DISRAELI.
"E. W. WATKIN, Esq., M.P."
Time went on, and, one morning in the summer of 1868, I received this
letter:--
"10, DOWNING STREET, WHITEHALL,
"_August 11, 1868_.
"MY DEAR MR. ROSE,
"The Queen has been graciously pleased to order, that letters patent
should be prepared, to confer the honor of knighthood on Mr. Watkin,
the Member for Stockport.
"As I know you take a great interest in the welfare of that gentleman,
I have sent you this line, that you may be the first to know the
distinction that awaits him.
"Sincerely yours,
"B. DISRAELI.
"PHILIP ROSE, Esqre."
I may also add a curious bit of history of a personal character.
Mr. Disraeli was returned to Parliament, in 1837, for Maidstone,
mainly, by the exertions and influence of his agent, Mr. Richard Hart,
the eminent solicitor. Mr. Hart was my friend and agent on my return
for the borough of Hythe, in 1874, and in 1880.
Mr. Hart had many interesting reminiscences of Mr. Disraeli to recount,
and some day, in a more appropriate place, I hope to be able to recount
them.