The strange and memorable episode of the Parnell Commission lies at the

present in a twilight. It has drifted out of the fierce and uncertain

glare of political controversy. It is not yet illumined by the calm lamp

of the historian. Those whose influence initiated or sustained the

policy seem abundantly vindicated by events. Their action was ratified

by Parliament and never seriously impugned by the nation. Whatever

injury resulted at the time to the cause of the Union--and no doubt the

injury was grave--was more than healed by the unexpected proceedings in

the Divorce Courts at the end of the year. If it be true, as some may

think, that the conduct of Irish affairs by the Conservative Cabinet of

‘86 enabled Mr. Gladstone to advance the flag of Home Rule again at the

head of a Parliamentary majority, it is also true that this second

onslaught encountered a not less stubborn resistance and ended in an

even more decisive and lasting success. Those who were responsible have

no apparent cause to regret the course they took. Those who, on the

other hand, opposed it, from whatever motive, were brushed aside, and

could never persuade the public of their case. And yet such a strange

place is England that there is scarcely anyone, from the Ministers who

bear the burden, to the _Times_ newspaper--left, through the policy of

the Government it supported, loyal and indignant, with a quarter of a

million to pay--who will not to-day confess, and even declare, that

these proceedings were a grand and cardinal blunder from beginning to

end; that an Executive has no business to thrust itself into disputes

which the parties concerned may settle in the courts, and no right to

erect special machinery for the examination of charges perfectly within

the knowledge and scope of the law. So that if these things are

affirmed while the light is dim, while even the dust of conflict has

not altogether subsided, we may be hopeful of the judgment which history

will pronounce.

* * * * *

In these later years Lord Randolph Churchill was drawn increasingly

towards a Collectivist view of domestic politics. Almost every speech

which he made from 1889 to 1891 gives evidence of the steady development

of his opinions. His interest in the problems of the labouring classes

grew warmer and keener as time passed. He spoke his mind without the

smallest regard to the susceptibilities of his party, or to his own

influence and position; and he favoured or accepted doctrines and

tendencies before which Liberals recoiled and even the most stalwart

Radicals paused embarrassed. He urged the House of Commons to examine

the demand for a general eight hours’ day ‘with a total absence of

anything like dogmatism.’ He replied with some asperity to Mr.

Bradlaugh, whose outspoken condemnation of the State regulation of the

hours of adult labour had evoked delighted cheers from the Conservative

party. He often wondered, he said, whether Mr. Bradlaugh or Mr.

Chamberlain would be the first to take a seat on the Treasury Bench. He

was sceptical, in the face of Income Tax and Revenue Returns, about ‘the

narrow margin of profit’ remaining to capital. His answer to a

deputation of miners who waited in succession on him and Mr. Gladstone

to urge the enforcement of an eight hours’ day in the coal trade was

accepted by them as far more favourable to their desires than anything

that fell from the Liberal leader. He voted for the principle of the

payment of members of Parliament. He took a leading part in the movement

to provide North-West London with a polytechnic institution--‘a

university for labour,’ as he described it. ‘An Englishman,’ he said,

‘possesses over Europeans one immeasurable and inestimable advantage.

Out of the life of every German, every Frenchman, every Italian, every

Austrian, every Russian, the respective Governments of those countries

take three years for compulsory military service. If you estimate those

three years at eight hours per day for six days a week, you will find

that out of the life of every European in those nations no fewer than

7,500 hours are taken by the Governments of those countries for

compulsory military service, during which time the individual so

deprived is, for the purposes of contributing to the wealth of the

community as a whole by his labour, as idle and useless and unprofitable

as if he had never been born. But in our free and happy country, where

the freedom of existence has practically no reasonable limits and where

only a very minute portion of the population voluntarily embraces a

military career, every man who lives to the age of twenty-three or

twenty-four, possesses as an advantage over the inhabitants of foreign

countries an extra capital of at least 7,500 hours. That immeasurable

superiority, if properly taken advantage of by the provision of adequate

educational institutions, is what should enable us to put aside alarm as

to foreign competition.’ His Licensing Bill, which he introduced on

April 29, 1890, in the last great speech he ever made to the House of

Commons, while it affirmed the justice of compensation, asserted for the

first time in Parliament the principle of popular control over the issue

of licences.

All these questions trench too closely upon current politics to be

conveniently examined here. But it is not difficult to understand why

his opinions did not win Lord Randolph Churchill the support of every

section of the Conservative party. And yet all the while, in spite of

his public declarations--obstinately repeated--there continued in the

Tory ranks a steady and at times a powerful pressure to bring him back

to the Government. Session after session had been scrambled through in

dispiriting fashion. The mismanagement of Parliamentary business, the

failure of important legislative projects, the abiding discredit of the

Pigott forgery, the lack of any life or fire or inspiration in the

conduct of affairs, sank the Conservative party and the Unionist

alliance lower and lower in public estimation.

By June 1890 Lord Salisbury’s Administration was in the utmost peril.

The Government majority upon a decisive division fell to four.[72] Their

licensing proposals were ignominiously withdrawn. Their attempt to carry

business over to an autumn session failed. And in these hard times many

Conservatives who disagreed altogether with Lord Randolph Churchill’s

views felt that his return to a commanding place was a necessary

condition, if the waning fortunes of their party were to be retrieved.

Ministers of importance approached Lord Salisbury. Sir Michael

Hicks-Beach urged him not to allow the object of excluding Lord Randolph

Churchill to prejudice the interests of the Unionist cause. Tory papers

wrote favourable articles. Tory worthies met together in the

Conservative Club under the presidency of Sir Algernon Borthwick, to

entertain the ‘prodigal son.’ ‘Randolph must return’ was everywhere the

whisper and the word. But Lord Salisbury was firm. Nothing would induce

him to divide his authority again. And having regard to all the

circumstances which have been related, he was, from his own point of

view, unquestionably right. He knew well that Lord Randolph Churchill

had altered no whit, had retracted nothing; and that, if he rejoined the

Ministry, he would labour as of old, without stint or pause, with riper

gifts of knowledge and experience and under conditions more favourable

perhaps than in 1886, to guide and to deflect the policy of a

Conservative Government into democratic and progressive paths. Better a

party or a personal defeat; better a Parliamentary collapse; better even

an Imperial disaster!

Fortune favours the brave. The courage and tenacity of the Prime

Minister received an unexpected relief. The downfall of Parnell was at

hand. Her Majesty’s Government regained in the Divorce Court the credit

they had lost before the Special Commission. The ranks of the English

Home Rule party, lately so exultant, were broken in dismay; and

Nationalist Ireland, hitherto united under one controlling hand, was

distracted by enduring and ferocious feuds. This peculiar episode may

have settled decisively the fate of the legislative union between Great

Britain and Ireland. It also terminated for ever, without hope or

expectation of renewal, the protracted conflict between the New Tories

and the Old.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: 1887-1893]

Meanwhile outside the House of Commons and the forbidding circles of

politics Lord Randolph was developing during these years new interests

and amusements. Excitement in one form or another always attracted him,

and after his resignation he sought it on the Turf. In partnership with

Lord Dunraven he soon acquired a number of horses, to whose training and

running he paid the closest attention. He became a shrewd judge of

‘form.’ In handicaps especially, his forecasts were so often fulfilled

that he acquired quite a reputation among his sporting friends. On the

morning of a race meeting he would sit for hours pencilling upon the

card, by the aid of _Ruff’s Guide_, calculations which led very often to

conclusions that were right and still more often to conclusions that

were nearly right. Under his eye Sherwood’s stable became successful and

for two years at least stood high in the winning lists. His footsteps

fell upon some odd streaks of luck. While he was away fishing in Norway,

in the summer of 1889, his mare the Abbesse de Jouarre won the Oaks at

odds of twenty to one. At Doncaster, the year before, he dreamed he saw

a number hoisted. On consulting his card the next day he found that only

one horse running had so high a number. Inquiries led to the belief that

this horse had a much better chance than the odds at which it stood

suggested. Lord Randolph backed it heavily and won a considerable sum.

Against the advice of his trainer he insisted on running the Abbesse de

Jouarre for the Manchester Cup in 1889, and her victory constituted

perhaps his most fortunate speculation. Of other horses which he owned

or leased it is not necessary to speak, but during the years 1887 to

1891 Lord Randolph’s colours--‘chocolate, pink sleeves and cap’--were

often to the fore.

Standing, as he did, apart from the ordinary groupings of party, he

cultivated during these years pleasant relations with politicians of

every shade. At his sister Lady Tweedmouth’s house he met Mr. Gladstone

more frequently than he had ever done before. Lord Randolph treated the

illustrious old man with the utmost deference, and each appears to have

derived much satisfaction from the other’s society. ‘He was the most

courtly man I ever met,’ observed Mr. Gladstone in later years to Mr.

Morley. At one dinner at Brook House Mr. Gladstone had talked with great

vivacity and freedom and held everyone breathless. ‘And that,’ said Lord

Randolph to a Liberal-Unionist friend, as they walked out of the room

together, ‘that is the man you have left? How could you have done it?’

His own society was eagerly sought by his friends; for he had much

treasure to give as a companion, if only he were in the giving vein. The

gay and reckless brilliancy of his conversation fascinated all who came

within its range. He would talk and argue with entire freedom on every

subject. He loved to defend daring paradoxes; and when forced to exert

himself he would produce arguments so original and ingenious that the

listeners were delighted, even if they were unconvinced. He sometimes

amused himself by saying things on purpose to shock ponderous people,

and in painting himself extravagantly in the darkest hues, so that they

departed grieved to think there was so much wickedness left in the

world. He excelled in all kinds of chaff and conversational

sword-play--from sombre irony to schoolboy fun. When he wanted to

persuade people to do any particular thing, he took enormous pains,

seeming to touch by instinct all the feelings and reasons which moved or

disturbed them, and very often he coaxed or compelled them to his

wishes. On the other hand, he did not care how rude he was to those who

wearied or irritated him, and he would toss and gore fools with true

Johnsonian vigour and zest. In this abrupt and impulsive way he hurt the

feelings of some harmless people and disquieted a good many more; but if

he were sorry afterwards, as he very often was, he could nearly always

make amends by a word or a smile or some little courtesy, and the sun

shone out all the brighter for the storm. Although in his later years

the nervous irritability of his nature became extreme, he steadily

enlarged the circle of his private friends, and those who had known him

long were increasingly attached to him. Not without justice could they

apply to him Addison’s well-known lines:--

In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow,

Thou’rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow,

Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen about thee,

There is no living with thee, nor without thee.[73]

Lord Randolph was wont to pass much of the autumn and winter abroad and

each year he pushed his travels further afield and remained a longer

time. In August of 1888 he had visited Tarbes--the constituency which

returned his friend the Marquis de Breteuil to the French Chamber--and

here spent some placid agreeable weeks of fine weather amid splendid

mountains, while his companion conciliated the principal electors by

intercourse and entertainment. Of the attractions of Tarbes and its

neighbourhood--better known, perhaps, to French and Spanish visitors

than to the English tourist--it would be superfluous to write, for they

were set forth by the local newspaper in a passage whose hospitable

extravagance I shall venture to quote:--

Nous apprenons l’arrivée dans notre département de lord Randolph

Churchill, qui vient y retrouver son ami M. le Marquis de Breteuil.

Nous souhaitons la bienvenue dans nos montagnes au noble Lord, au

brillant orateur de la Chambre des Communes.

Il est certain d’y recevoir un accueil cordial de la part de nos

députés et courtois de la part de nos populations qui n’ont jamais

failli aux devoirs de l’hospitalité.

Il y retrouvera, avec un climat plus doux même que celui du

Devonshire, des sites plus enchanteurs encore, des sommets plus

élevés que le Snowdon, des lacs aussi bleus que le Lomond, des

torrents plus impétueux que le Glen et le Liddel.

Si le daim, le cerf et la grouse nous font défaut, nous avons

l’izard, la caille savoureuse, la perdrix noire, la perdrix

blanche, le coq de bruyère, la bécasse, le lièvre, etc. L’ours même

s’y rencontre, mais ... difficilement.

Chose plus importante encore, si l’honorable membre de la Chambre

des Communes avait, victime de son éloquence, le larynx fatigué,

les eaux merveilleuses de Cauterets seraient là pour le guérir.

De toutes les façons, nous avons la conviction que lord Churchill

emportera de nos Pyrénées un bon souvenir.

_To his Wife._

Tarbes: August 1, 1888.

Here we are very peaceable and comfortable--beautiful weather,

splendid mountains, and nothing to bother about. This is a charming

place; house and garden both very pretty. Breteuil’s electors drop

in at odd times and some remain to breakfast and some to dinner.

They are not very amusing, but very harmless and interesting as

types of French provincial society. The worst of the electors is

that they will not go to bed; but remain very late. I suppose they

are too glad to get an evening out.

The charm of this place is the absence of any crowd. French and

Spaniards are the only people who come here and English and

Americans are conspicuous by their absence. I tried the ‘douches’

at Cauterets. They are very pleasant at the moment, but, I think,

enervating. We dined last night in company with Mons. de Gontaut,

formerly Ambassador in Berlin--a charming old man.... Yesterday we

drove to Lourdes, a very extraordinary place--a monument of ‘la

bêtise humaine.’ A great number of electors are coming to dinner in

the evening.

* * * * *

I have just seen a man 118 years old. His father lived to be 114,

and died from a fall from a horse; his mother lived to be 108. He

is a Spaniard who lives at Tarbes--quite a poor man, subsisting on

charity; looks about 70 years old, has all his teeth, lots of grey

hair, and he walked here all the way from the town--about

three-quarters of a mile. There is no doubt about his age, as his

papers are all in order. He served eight years in the French army

in Spain and was present at the siege of Saragossa. He said he

would be glad to die, as he was quite tired of living so long....

Breteuil’s colleague in the representation of this department

arrived this morning.

Now in 1890 he would go to Egypt, where with two old friends he had

leased a _dahabeah_ on the Nile. His letters to his wife, from which I

make a few extracts, describe the even progress of the journey.

Monte Carlo: November 25, 1890.

So to-day is the meeting of Parliament. How thankful I am not to be

going down to the House! In this morning’s _Galignani_ there is a

sensational announcement that a dissolution of Parliament is to

take place in the spring. I do not believe it, though perhaps, as

Parnell’s love affairs have thrown disarray among the Home Rulers,

some of the Ministers might think it a good moment. But ‘a bird in

the hand’ is what Lord S. will be guided by.

Rome: December 3, 1890.

Your nice long letter was very pleasant to receive. I should like

to get them very often. I also got your telegram about a letter

from Fardell posted to Naples, which I suppose I will receive

to-morrow. I hope he does not announce a dissolution. Parnell’s

manifesto is a masterpiece. He lifts the issue between himself and

Mr. Gladstone from the small ground of the divorce up to the large

ground of a great political question. He may hold his own; but it

must mean a complete smash-up of the Home Rule alliance.... The

Government will be fools if they do not dissolve. This crash of the

Home Rule party, this repudiation by Parnell of Mr. G.’s scheme, is

the most complete and glaring justification of the Unionist cause.

They will never get a better chance. However, I hope they won’t do

so, as it would spoil my Egyptian plans.... I fear that bad Land

Bill may now pass and make heaps of difficulty and trouble for

future Governments....

Dahabeah, Ammon Ra, near Luxor: December 28, 1890.

It was very pleasant on waking up this morning to find a bundle of

letters from you and others. They were brought down the river by

one of Cook’s steamers from Luxor, where we shall arrive in about

an hour.... We have been eight days on the journey from Assiout,

as, except for two days, the wind has not been favourable and our

steam launch is not strong enough to tow us more than about three

miles an hour. I cannot tell you how pleasant it has been; one day

more perfect than another, and yet the heat has never been

oppressive. The days slip by as if they were hours. The newspapers

came to hand at Assiout--though newspapers here seem to be

superfluities--and I was able to read up all the news to the

13th.... It certainly looks as if the Government had been

immeasurably strengthened and would require no help from anyone.

But all these things concern me very little. We are enjoying

ourselves immensely. Life on the Nile is ideal. The scenery would

be monotonous if it were not on so vast a scale; but as it is, one

never tires of it. Certainly this is the only place to pass the

winter if fine warm weather is desired.... I must say I wish you

were on board this boat--a week of this weather and rest would make

you as strong as a horse. Perhaps next winter, if we are alive and

well, we may do it together....

[Illustration: _Lady Randolph Churchill._

_From a drawing by John S. Sargent, R.A._]

[Sidenote: 1891 ÆT. 41]

Dahabeah, Ammon Ra, Denderah: January 6, 1891.

I can, I fear, ill repay you for your very interesting letter of

the 24th. All I can say is that it was thoroughly appreciated. I

have little or nothing to tell you. A life without incident and

without emotion has many advantages; but does not lend itself to

correspondence, either as regards energy or material. I have seen

Philæ and the Cataract, as also the temples of Edfoo and of this

place--most interesting. Also a long expedition from Luxor to the

tombs of the kings, some four thousand years old. Each king must

have passed his lifetime in making his tomb, and if it was not

finished when he died he had to go without. The weather has been

perfect--day after day of cloudless skies, cool breezes and

unparalleled sunsets. We read, we smoke, we lounge, we play

picquet--at which I continue to hold exceedingly indifferent

cards.... We shall dawdle out our time here as much as possible, as

we do not want to be more than a day in Cairo.

To Sir Henry James, who wrote him accounts of the strange developments

at Westminster, he framed a more elaborate reply than was usual with him

in private correspondence:--

Dahabea, ‘Ammon Ra.’ Edfu, 60 miles south of Luxor:

Jan. 3, 1891.

Your amiable and friendly letter reached me here this morning on my

return from a visit to and prolonged study of a temple erected by

the Ptolemies 250 B.C. It is ridiculously modern compared with

Karnac, but its comparatively perfect state enables one usefully to

imagine what Karnac was. In such a frame of mind, embracing a

period of 10,000 years, your home politics, your House of Commons

interests, the eloquence of Smith, the courage of Balfour, the

honesty of Hartington, the financial genius of Goschen and the

adroitness of Joe, all acted upon, stimulated and developed by the

lax morals of Parnell, present themselves to my mental optics much

in the same manner as fleas may attract the notice of an elephant.

I am living with Rameses, Thotmes and Seti, and I have despised the

Ptolemies as parvenus, and Cleopatra as ----! Imagine therefore how

infinitely little becomes the struggle of the Kilkenny factions,

the senile drivellings of Mr. Gladstone on Ravenswood which you

think worthy of mention, the remorse of the officeless Harcourt or

the doubting gloom of Morley. Here on this placid expanse of

limitless plain and river and among these Egyptian temples you

appear to me, as I say, like performing fleas. I was once a flea

like you and skipped as nimbly as any of you, but have by some

Pythagorean process emerged from that abject condition, and prefer

musings over an immense past to worryings over a little present.

In addition to the attractions of this country and of its historic

associations, we have and enjoy ideal weather, perfect peace,

absence of all noise and a floating domicile in all respects

comfortable; good food, hock, champagne, Pilsener beer, Marquis

chocolate, ripe bananas, fresh dates, and literally hundreds of

French novels, recourse to which is interrupted by games of

picquet, in which the lucky Harry T[yrrwhit] has gained of me

10,000 1_d._ points. French novels, cards and Egyptian temples

assimilate pleasantly, but English newspapers and English news are

out of tune with these surroundings. And what pleases me most in

your letter is the reflection to which it gives rise, that I still

exist in the memory of a friend.

This is the part of the world in which you must pass your next

winter. This heavenly climate will tame the most ferocious gout and

tranquillise the most irritated nerves. If all is well, I will

conduct you here next winter, introduce to you my friends Rameses &

Co., forbid you the acquaintance of the vulgar Ptolemies, and gain

from you 10,000 1_d._ points at picquet.

We have reached our Southern limit at Assouan, and are now

leisurely floating down the current back to Cairo, back to noise,

back to cold, back to tiresome women, back to _Times_ leading

articles, all inventions of the devil from which Providence has

preserved the waters of the Nile....

I do not think I have ever experienced so pleasant a time as during

the last three weeks. I have arrived at the condition of the true

philosopher; nerves calm, health good, everything to please the eye

and the mind. The past affords matter for agreeable reflection. The

future appears without vexation. I can inform myself with interest

but without emotions either of pleasure or displeasure of the good

or evil fortunes of my enemies or my friends, and I please myself

with the imagination that if I were to die to-morrow, I should have

experienced and exhausted, prudently abandoning before satiation,

every form of human excitement. This is what you can come to if you

spend your next winter in Egypt; and it is to repay you for your

letter that I thus lengthily suggest to you the prospect of

obtaining at least six weeks of happiness and peace in the year of

our Lord 1891.

[Sidenote: 1887-1890]

It is instructive to notice that Lord Randolph’s conduct during the

years that followed his resignation will bear a far more exacting

scrutiny than the years of his good fortune. Differing as he did on many

questions from the Government, separated from them by the personal

dislike or distrust with which he was regarded, he had nevertheless

given them, so far as he conscientiously could, a loyal and regular

support. He had never spoken against them except when compelled by

opinions plainly declared in former years, or moved by deep feeling; and

then he had always practised a moderation in tone and language foreign

to his disposition. He had done nothing to embarrass them or hamper

them. He had never made a personal attack on any of his late

colleagues, nor can I discover any unkind or acrimonious word used about

them. From time to time he had tried to influence their policy in

directions which he believed the public interest and their own equally

required; but these occasions had been rare and he had usually been

right. Although the object of much abuse and even hatred from his old

friends, he nourished no thoughts of permanent separation. ‘Born and

bred,’ he wrote in 1891, ‘in the Conservative party, I could never join

the ranks of their opponents.’ ‘I have always been,’ he told his

constituents (February 22, 1891), ‘more or less of an independent

member. From the year 1874, when I entered Parliament, to the year

1880--during the time of Lord Beaconsfield’s Government--I felt it my

duty on more than one occasion to vote and speak against that powerful

Government, and at times when in certain circles in London even to

whisper a doubt as to its wisdom was considered almost treasonable. From

1880 to 1885 I pursued a course in Parliament of the greatest freedom

and independence. More than once I went my own way, not caring much

whether anyone followed; but I hardly think there are those who will

assert that my action from 1880 to 1885 did injury to the Tory party. I

have been unable even of late years to divest myself of my independent

character. Lord Melbourne--or was it Lord Palmerston?--once

characterised an independent member of Parliament as a member who could

not be depended upon. Well, this much is certain. If I am called upon

to support a reactionary and antiquated policy, then I am not to be

depended upon. If I am called upon to approve illiberal or sham

legislation, then I am not to be depended upon. If I am called upon to

support an aggressive policy or a policy of large expenditure, then I am

not to be depended upon. But if I am called upon to abide by pledges I

have given on any platform or in any published letter or to support the

political principles I have advocated, since I entered Parliament, then

I can confidently point out to you my past career as a proof that I am

to be depended upon--more, perhaps, than any devoted partisan of the

present Government.’

These were the best years of his intellectual power--a short summer when

his mind was most fertile and his judgment ripe and prescient. Almost

alone and unsupported he had by sheer personal force and persuasive

speech commanded respect and procured important decisions. Grave or gay,

in attack, defence, or exposition, on all sorts of subjects and in all

sorts of humours, the House of Commons had delighted to hear him; and

what he said in Parliament or out of doors, whether about politics or

other matters, was received and examined with national attention. But

let it be observed that Lord Randolph Churchill was beaten, whatever he

did, when he played the national game; and was victorious, whatever he

did, while he played the party game. No question of ‘taste’ or

‘patriotism’ was raised when what he said, however outrageous, suited

his party. No claim of truth counted when what he said, however

incontrovertible, was awkward for his party. Yet almost fiercely he

asserted his loyalty to the Unionist cause.

‘It was not difficult for me to notice,’ he wrote in 1891, in a letter

to his constituents, never published, ‘that after power was assured to

the Tory leaders for some years by the General Election of 1886, it was

their intention to stand on the old ways of Toryism in respect to

Ireland, foreign policy and expenditure. Then I went away from them. On

three occasions since during the last long five years have I gone

against them: (1) When they threatened to recommence the policy of

military expenditure in the Soudan; (2) when in 1888 the present Leader

of the House of Commons, then Chief Secretary, ridiculed and denounced

in the House the demand of the Irish members for Local Self-government;

(3) when in 1890 I declared against the iniquitous and infamous policy

of the Parnell Commission. With these three exceptions I often supported

the Government by speech and vote in Parliament; I even spoke and voted

in favour of their Coercion Bill in 1887, though I was much startled and

disquieted afterwards by the manner of its administration; and in 1887,

1888, and 1889 I addressed large public meetings in their support. For

the rest of the time, when I disagreed and doubted--as was often the

case--I stood aloof and held my peace; and you must well remember that

on more than one occasion in past sessions this strong Government and

party managed to get themselves into the sorest straits, and that

opportunities were offered of paying off some old scores which, if

personal considerations had influenced me, I should not have neglected

and which, I expect, not many politicians would have allowed to pass by.

Bear this in mind, I pray you, in common justice when you hear me freely

accused--as I have often been, and shall be again--of disloyalty to the

Tory or the Unionist party; contrast the line of action I have followed

with action followed in former Parliaments towards former Governments by

former out-going Ministers; and I call upon you to acquit me fully of

any charge of disloyalty.’

It had been proved to utter conviction in those barren years that ‘ten

men armed can subdue one man in his shirt.’ One friend after another had

fallen away from Lord Randolph. The hostility of the Prime Minister and

the tireless machine-like detraction of the party press had not been

without effect. His Parliamentary position was one of complete isolation

and his popularity in the country had declined. Others--scarcely heard

of in the days of battle--were now bearing the burden of the Unionist

cause, and the public eye was fixed upon a stout-hearted bookseller

whose perseverance as Leader was making of his repeated failures a

curious but undoubted success, and upon an Irish Secretary whose

reputation was every day enhanced by the taunts and revilings he

provoked from his opponents. The Minister who seemed so powerful in

1886, the people’s favourite, the necessary Parliamentarian, the central

link of the Unionist alliance, certainly its most redoubtable champion,

stood outside all political combinations, actual or potential. The

Government of such a sickly infancy was grown up into a strong, if not a

healthy manhood. The sunrise of wealth and extending comfort which in

every nation lighted up the last quarter of the nineteenth century was

strengthening by an unseen yet irresistible process the forces upon

which Conservatism depends; and the millstone of Home Rule bowed and

strangled the Liberals. There was neither need nor place for a leader of

Tory Democracy.

All this was perfectly appreciated by Lord Randolph Churchill, and his

detached contented mood and habit of thought were carefully and

laboriously assumed and fortified by every trick of mental discipline he

knew. A studied disdain of the course of public events, the influence of

movement and of changing scenes, the delights of summer-lands, books,

friends and mild Egyptian cigarettes--all were to him the incidents of

an elaborate art. But the characters of valetudinarian, pleasure-seeker,

traveller, sportsman, failed to satisfy, and served scarcely to

distract. Always at hand, though forbidden his mind, lurked the hopes

and the schemes, once so real, now turned to shadows: and the

thought--never quite to be chased away--of that multitude of working

people he knew so well, who had trusted him as their champion; who were

still ready, if they knew how, to do him honour; but for whom--though

their problems were still unsolved, uncared for, or cared for only as

counters in the game of politics--it was beyond his power to do the

smallest service. And although the great river, gliding impassively

along by the sands of the desert and the temples of forsaken faiths,

might seem to smile at fretful aspirations, the reproach and

disappointment silently consumed him.

* * * * *

Further and further afield! After the session of 1890 Lord Randolph

Churchill abandoned the House of Commons. He attended seldom; he never

spoke. In the summer of 1891 he sailed for South Africa in quest of

sport and gold--and peace. A journey to Mashonaland was in those days an

enterprise of some difficulty; nor, indeed, before the overthrow of the

Matabele power, devoid of risk. Elaborate arrangements were required to

conduct even a small party in comfort through these untrodden fields.

The command of the miniature expedition was entrusted to Major Giles, a

traveller well acquainted with the country. As killing game was a

necessity as well as an amusement, one of the best hunters in South

Africa, Hans Lee, was included in the party; and Mr. Perkins, a mining

engineer of the highest eminence, was engaged to search for gold.

The interest with which Lord Randolph was regarded by the public had

survived his popularity and all these preparations excited general

curiosity and afforded fertile themes for comment and satire. He was

persuaded to write a long series of letters for the _Daily Graphic_ by

the extraordinary offer of a hundred pounds for each letter. Every

incident of his journey, even the most trivial, especially the most

personal that could be discovered, was telegraphed to England by

assiduous reporters and discussed with genial malice by the Conservative

newspapers. He was burlesqued on the Gaiety stage with a wit so pointed

that the song was stopped by the intervention of the Lord Chamberlain.

While paragraphs, lampoons and caricatures exhibited him daily to the

ridicule of his countrymen; while the delegates of the National Union

hooted his name at their annual conference; and while the chiefs of the

Tories complacently admired the fulness of their triumph, the

ex-Minister plunged into vast solitudes. Across the veldt by bush and

kloof and kopje, through the drifts of flooded rivers, by mining camps

and frontier posts into magnificent wildernesses toiled the tiny

caravan. A gust of bracing air and rough exertion breaks in upon the

artificial ventilation of the House of Commons. The crowded benches,

with the yellow light streaming down upon them from the ceiling, recede

into the distance. Waggons creak and jolt along stony tracks, camp-fires

twinkle in the waste, antelope gallop over spacious pastures, lions roar

beneath the stars----

All this has been described by Lord Randolph Churchill himself in the

book in which his published letters were finally compiled.[74] I will

not tell a twice-told tale. It was not perhaps surprising that a

relentless criticism should have denied to these productions all title

to literary merit. Their commercial value consisted mainly in the

personality of the writer; and that personality was the object of

powerful and widespread prejudice. The extravagant price paid for them

was an incitement to every sharp pen less generously rewarded. The

letters themselves make no pretence to elegance. Here and there a touch

of quaint humour, a caustic or jingling phrase, or a rhetorical

passage--but for the most part they tell a plain story of sport and

travel, as such stories have often been told before.

One extract shall suffice:--

We were riding along through a small open glade covered with high

grass, Lee a few yards ahead of me, when I suddenly saw him turn

round, cry out something to me, and point with his finger ahead. I

looked, and saw lolloping along through and over the grass, about

forty yards off, a yellow animal about as big as a small bullock.

It flashed across me that it was a lion--the last thing in the

world that I was thinking of. I was going to dismount and take aim,

for I was not frightened at the idea of firing at a retreating

lion; but Lee called out in succession five or six times, ‘Look,

look!’ at the same time pointing with his finger in different

directions in front. I saw to my astonishment, and rather to my

dismay, that the glade appeared to be alive with lions. There they

were, trooping and trotting along ahead of us like a lot of

enormous dogs, great yellow objects, offering such a sight as I had

never dreamed of. Lee turned to me and said, ‘What will you do?’ I

said, ‘I suppose we must go after them,’ thinking all the time that

I was making a very foolish answer. This I am the more convinced of

now, for Lee told me afterwards that many old hunters in South

Africa will turn away from such a troupe of lions as we had before

us. We trotted on after them a short distance to where the grass

was more open, the lions trotting along ahead of us in the most

composed and leisurely fashion, very different from the

galloping-off of a surprised and startled antelope. Lee now

dismounted and fired at a lion about fifty yards off. I saw the

brute fall forward on his head, twist round and round and stagger

into a patch of high grass slightly to the left of where I was

riding.

I did not venture to dismount with such a lot of these brutes all

around ahead of me, not feeling at all sure that I should be able

to remount quickly enough and gallop away after shooting. My horse,

untrained to the gun, would not allow me to fire from his back and

would probably have thrown me off had I done so. I stuck close to

Lee, determined to leave the shooting to him unless things became

critical, as his aim was true. His nerves were steady, which was

more than mine were, though I do not admit that I was at all

frightened. I counted seven lions; Lee says there were more. I saw,

and cried out to Lee, pointing to a great big fellow with a heavy

black mane trotting along slightly ahead of the rest. He was just

crossing a small spruit about one hundred yards ahead and as he

climbed the opposite bank offered his hind quarters as a fair

target. Lee fired at him, at which he quickened his pace and

disappeared in front. We approached the spruit and, almost

literally under my nose, I saw three lions tumble up out of it,

climb the opposite side and disappear. Now I own I longed for my

shooting pony Charlie, for they offered me splendid shots, quite

close, such as I could hardly have missed. I raised my rifle to

take aim at the last; but, perhaps fortunately for me, he

disappeared, before I could fire, in the high grass on the other

side. I saw Lee fire from his horse at one as it was climbing the

bank, which he wounded badly. It retreated into a patch of thick

grass the other side of the spruit, uttering sounds something

between a growl, a grunt and a sob.

Mashonaland yielded no golden results to the practised eye of Mr.

Perkins; and it was not until the expedition had returned to

Johannesburg that he unfolded his novel theory of deep levels. At this

time the outcrop of the Great Banket reef was the only gold area which

was being worked. Mr. Perkins observed the slant at which the strata

emerged from the upper soil. He calculated accordingly. He advised the

purchase of farms and properties along the south side of the ridge. By

striking down directly into the earth the Great Banket reef would again

be overtaken--richer perhaps than ever before. Lord Randolph Churchill

must have stood at this time very close to an almost immeasurable

fortune. Such a vital thought could not, however, remain secret--was

already occurring to other minds. But the investments which he made were

not inconsiderable or ill-judged, and were sold at his death for upwards

of 70,000_l._

While such business and adventure occupied his mind the leadership of

the House of Commons fell vacant. Mr. Smith’s heavy task was at an end.

For two sessions he had struggled against ever-increasing physical

distresses. Hour after hour he had sat on his Bench with his rug across

his knees--a pathetic and not unheroic figure. Night after night he had

risen in his place to discharge in singularly bad speeches his duty--as

he would have phrased it--to ‘Queen and country.’ Now he was gone, and

Lord Salisbury made haste to appoint Mr. Balfour in his stead. His

selection was almost universally applauded.

_Lord Randolph Churchill to his Wife._

Mafeking, November 23, 1891.

So Arthur Balfour is really leader--and Tory Democracy, the genuine

article, at an end! Well, I have had quite enough of it all. I have

waited with great patience for the tide to turn, but it has not

turned, and will not now turn in time. In truth, I am now

altogether _déconsidéré_. I feel sure the other party will come in

at the next election. The South Molton election is another among

many indications. No power will make me lift hand or foot or voice

for the Tories, just as no power would make me join the other side.

All confirms me in my decision to have done with politics and try

to make a little money for the boys and for ourselves. I hope you

do not all intend to worry me on this matter and dispute with me

and contradict me. More than two-thirds, in all probability, of my

life is over, and I will not spend the remainder of my years in

beating my head against a stone wall. I expect I have made great

mistakes; but there has been no consideration, no indulgence, no

memory or gratitude--nothing but spite, malice and abuse. I am

quite tired and dead-sick of it all, and will not continue

political life any longer. I have not Parnell’s dogged, but at the

same time sinister, resolution; and have many things and many

friends to make me happy, without that horrid House of Commons work

and strife. After all, A. B. cannot beat my record; and it was I

who got him first into the Government, and then into the Cabinet.

This he and Lord S. know well.... It is so pleasant getting near

home again. I have had a good time (out here), but now reproach

myself for having left you all for so long, and am dying to be

again at Connaught Place.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XXII

OPPOSITION ONCE MORE

Though much is taken, much abides; and tho’

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

TENNYSON: _Ulysses_.

[Sidenote: 1892 ÆT. 43]

The variations of English politics are continual, and at times so swift

that those who influence them and are in turn influenced by them are

hardly conscious of the pace they are travelling. As the general

situation alters, the relations of its principal characters insensibly

change. The doubtful or indifferent acquaintance of one year is the

trusted comrade of the next. Combinations impossible in January are

inevitable in June. Mortal offences are forgotten, if they are not

forgiven; and as the ship moves forward into newer waters only a fading

streak of froth lingers on the surface of the sea.

Lord Randolph Churchill returned from South Africa early in 1892, to

find, so far as he was concerned, a better temper and complexion in

public affairs than at any time since his resignation. The life of the

Government was ebbing away; the appeal to country could not be long

delayed; and although the Parnell disclosures had immensely strengthened

the Unionist position, there was little in the record or character of

the Administration to excite popular enthusiasm. The drag of six years

of office made its effect felt, and the Grand Old Man seemed still to

enjoy the unconquerable splendour of his powers. That feeling of closing

up the ranks, usually the prelude to a General Election, was abroad in

the party; and its chiefs, though he did not at first realise it, looked

in amity, not unmingled with anxiety, to the erstwhile leader of Tory

Democracy, who had done such great things with the electors in the past

and might, for all they knew, exert even a greater influence in the

future. His reappearance in the House of Commons in the first days of

February created a stir, which his silent and reserved demeanour did not

speedily allay. Alike in the lobbies and the newspapers the question was

debated, ‘What is he going to do?’ And it must be admitted that his

answer to the resolution in which the South Paddington Conservative

Association inquired whether he proposed to stand, and if so whether he

would support the general policy of the Conservative party, did not

altogether remove the uncertainty which existed.

‘I would be obliged to you,’ he wrote to the Secretary of the

Association (February 4, 1892), ‘if you would inform the Committee that,

as at present advised, it is my intention in the event of a dissolution

of Parliament to offer myself to the constituency for re-election and

that in taking that course I should hope that I might rely upon the

renewed support of the body which the Committee represent. It would

further be my intention, in the event of my being re-elected as member

of Parliament for the borough, to give to the Tory party the same

support which I have given to it since the year 1874, when I first

entered Parliament. Of the usefulness of that support it is not for me

to judge; it is sufficient for me to say that my action in the future in

the House of Commons would be in accordance, and consistent, with my

action in the past.’

To FitzGibbon he wrote with greater plainness.

Penn House, Amersham: January 13, 1892.

It was too pleasant to get a sight of your handwriting again. My

travel through South Africa was as nice an experience as anyone

could have, and though I am very glad to get back I really enjoyed

every hour of my journey. I think I find H. M. G. in a very weak

and tottering state; their feelings towards myself more bitter and

hostile than ever. But I imagine that, willy nilly, they will have

to shake off or subdue their prejudices, for great troubles are

before them. My information is that a large, influential and to

some extent independent section of Tories kick awfully against

Irish Local Government and do not mean to vote for it. This comes

from a very knowledgeable member of the Government outside the

Cabinet. If the Government proceed with their project they will

either split or seriously dishearten the party, and to do either on

the verge of a General Election would be suicidal. This is what

they ought to do: They ought to say this Irish Local Government is

far too large a question to be dealt with by a moribund

Parliament; they ought to confess that there is not sufficient

agreement among their supporters as to the nature and extent of

such a measure, such as would favour the chances of successful

legislation, and that they have determined to reserve the matter

for a new Parliament, when the mind of the country upon their Irish

administration has been fully ascertained. But I would not stop

there. What is the great feature of the political situation in

Ireland now? The resurrection in great force of priestly domination

in political matters. Now I would cool the ardour of these

potentates for Mr. G. by at once offering them the largest

concessions on education--primary, intermediate, and

University--which justice and generosity could admit of. I would

not give them everything before the General Election, but I would

give a good lot, and keep a good lot for the new Parliament. I do

not think they could resist the bribe; and the soothing effect of

such a policy on the Irish vote and attitude would be marked. Of

course the concession would have to be very large--almost as large

as what the Bishops have ever asked for--but preserving always

intact Trinity College. It would assume the material shape of a

money subsidy. What do you think of this? What is the frame of mind

of the Bishops? What form and scope would you give to such a

measure or measures as I suggest?

H. M. G. have no imagination or originality. The keystone of their

policy has been to play against the life of Mr. G. This (not very

noble, but still human) policy should, once taken up, be pursued

remorselessly. To carry on the policy, the life of the Parliament

should be prolonged into ‘93. How to do this? Introduce a measure

dealing largely with the registration laws.

‘One man one vote’--a trifle--could be conceded; twelve months’

residence in lieu of eighteen established; paid officials for

preparing register appointed in all constituencies. The new

register could not be ready before the early spring of next year,

and the convenient time for the election would be the summer or

autumn. Now, my dear FitzGibbon, imagine the consternation, fury

and utter paralysis of the Gladstonians if the Government were to

make this complete _volte-face_--this tremendous surprise (all so

logical and defensible as it is), the relief and joy of the Tories

at getting rid of Local Government and at getting another year of

life! Do not show this to anyone, unless it be to David Plunket, if

he is with you--the Government are too fond of appropriating my

ideas without acknowledgment--but write me all you think about it.

I could write pages in support of it, but your own wily and Ulysses

kind of mind will suggest to you all the wonderful elaboration of

which it is susceptible.

And again in April:--

Politics attract me less and less and I successfully resist all

invitations to take part in them, whether in Parliament or in the

country. I really sincerely do not think that an offer of office

would cause me the slightest emotion or drag me from my freedom and

carelessness. However, that speculation is not likely to be put to

the test. I have now a nice position--well with my constituents,

well with my party--and am inclined to let well alone. I anticipate

with amiable malice a Unionist defeat, and speculate on the nature

of their struggles to resume power after that defeat. Balfour is

doing very well, and has been much benefited by the senseless

outcry raised against him by the Opposition.... Did you see my

beautiful Latin letter to the [Trinity] College authorities,

corrected and revised by Welldon of Harrow! It ought to have been

published.

As the dissolution approached, overtures were made to him to contest

several constituencies and he was pressed on all sides for his

assistance. He declined everything. ‘It is not my intention,’ he wrote

to one ardent Tory Democrat,[75] ‘to make any political speeches at the

present time. Formerly I made many; but the labour was thankless and

fruitless. Besides, I have not the smallest idea what the programme of

our party now is.... From 1880 to 1886 I advocated on my own account a

generally liberal and progressive policy, with the result that when I

came into office I found that none of my colleagues were prepared to

give to this policy the smallest genuine support; and that, office

having been reached, promises to the people were to be forgotten or

evaded. This experience I will never recommence; and it is for this

reason that I decline, and must continue to decline, all invitations to

take part in the platform exercises which precede the General Election.’

In Parliament he remained silent. He admired Mr. Balfour’s early essays

in leading the House. ‘At last,’ he said, ‘the Tory party have got a

leader whom they like.’ To one who told him that if he sat below the

gangway he could soon overthrow the Government, he answered, ‘No, no;

Arthur Balfour is too often nearly right.’

The only interventions in outside politics which he allowed himself were

a speech on Metropolitan affairs during the London County Council

election and a letter to Mr. Arnold White, the Liberal-Unionist

candidate for Tyneside. This letter, however, outlines so boldly the

scope and direction of his views that it deserves to be quoted.

He wrote:--

The Labour community is carrying on at the present day a very

significant and instructive struggle. It has emancipated itself

very largely from the mere mechanism of party politics; it realises

that it now possesses political power to such an extent as to make

it independent of either party in the State; and the struggle which

it is now carrying on is less against Capital, less one of wages or

division of profits, but rather one for the practical utilisation

in its own interest of the great political power which it has

acquired. The Labour interest is now seeking to do itself what the

landed interest and the manufacturing capitalist interest did for

themselves when each in turn commanded the disposition of State

policy. Our land laws were framed by the landed interest for the

advantage of the landed interest, and foreign policy was directed

by that interest to the same end. Political power passed very

considerably from the landed interest to the manufacturing

capitalist interest, and our whole fiscal system was shaped by this

latter power to its own advantage, foreign policy being also made

to coincide. We are now come, or are coming fast, to a time when

Labour laws will be made by the Labour interest for the advantage

of Labour. The regulation of all the conditions of labour by the

State, controlled and guided by the Labour vote, appears to be the

ideal aimed at; and I think it extremely probable that a foreign

policy which sought to extend by tariff over our Colonies and even

over other friendly States, the area of profitable barter of

produce will strongly commend itself to the mind of the Labour

interest. Personally I can discern no cause for alarm in this

prospect and I believe that on this point you and I are in perfect

agreement. Labour in this modern movement has against it the

prejudices of property, the resources of capital, and all the

numerous forces--social, professional, and journalist--which those

prejudices and resources can influence. It is our business as Tory

politicians to uphold the Constitution. If under the Constitution

as it now exists, and as we wish to see it preserved, the Labour

interest finds that it can obtain its objects and secure its own

advantage, then that interest will be reconciled to the

Constitution, will find faith in it and will maintain it. But if

it should unfortunately occur that the Constitutional party, to

which you and I belong, are deaf to hear and slow to meet the

demands of Labour, are stubborn in opposition to those demands and

are persistent in the habit of ranging themselves in unreasoning

and short-sighted support of all the present rights of property and

capital, the result may be that the Labour interest may identify

what it will take to be defects in the Constitutional party with

the Constitution itself, and in a moment of indiscriminate impulse

may use its power to sweep both away. This view of affairs, I

submit, is worthy of attention at a time when it is a matter of

life or death to the Constitutional party to enlist in the support

of the Parliamentary Union of the United Kingdom a majority of the

votes of the masses of Labour.

You tell me that you find the designation ‘Tory’ a great difficulty

to you. I cannot see any good reason for this. After all, since the

Revolution the designation ‘Tory’ has always possessed an

essentially popular flavour, in contradistinction to the

designation ‘Whig.’ It has not only a popular but a grand

historical origin; it denotes great historical struggles, in many

of which the Tory party have been found on the popular side. Lord

Beaconsfield--who, if he was anything, was a man of the people and

understood the popular significance of names and words--invariably

made use of the word ‘Tory’ to characterise his party; and whatever

the Tory party may be deemed to be at particular moments, I have

always held, from the commencement of my political life, that,

rightly understood and explained, it ought to be, and was intended

to be, the party of broad ideas and of a truly liberal policy.

His interest in Labour questions was, indeed, growing steadily. When the

Eight Hours Bill for Miners was discussed that year in the Commons, he

addressed a long private letter to Mr. Balfour praying for its

considerate treatment. ‘I humbly advise, but pressingly; in the debate

let Gorst have a little Labour fling. Keep your hand tight over Matthews

and, if you can see your way to it, make one of those interesting and

amicable speeches which you can do so well, not exactly saying that your

mind is open, but, to use a Gladstonianism, that it is not altogether

absolutely closed. You can realise,’ he added quaintly, ‘how much

importance I attach to the question when I tell you that I am actually

coming up from Lincoln and missing three important races in which our

horses run, to vote for the Bill. I do not think I would do this for the

Monarchy, the Church, the House of Lords or the Union.’

The General Election came at that period, July, dear to the hearts of

Tory organisers, when democracy is supposed to be under the soothing

influence of summer weather, and before villadom has departed on its

holidays. Lord Randolph took little part in it. He stood for South

Paddington as a Conservative and an opponent of Home Rule. He let it be

understood that if he was not interfered with by the Liberal party he

would not speak outside the limits of his own constituency. This bargain

seeming sufficiently good, in view of the fact that the seat was

impregnable, no opposition was offered him. The only speech he found it

necessary to make, and his election address, dealt almost entirely with

the maintenance of the Union, though the latter also contained the

following paragraph:--

‘My views as to the reforms in the public service which public safety

and economy alike urgently call for, are, I think, well known to you;

they have undergone no change, save that I hold them more strongly than

ever. You are also, I imagine, not unaware of my desire to meet with all

legitimate sympathy and good-will the newly-formed but very articulate

and well-defined demands of the labouring classes.’

To FitzGibbon he wrote:--

I cannot manage to get over for the Trinity College festivities. I

have a great and increasing horror of anything in the nature of

speeches and functions. We are all over here awaiting in suspense

the result of the elections.... I have refused many invitations to

speak. I do not think the time at all propitious for anything in

the shape of a manifesto such as you suggest. Besides which, I have

no contest in this constituency; and as the Radicals are not

annoying me I do not want to provoke them. Nor do I feel called

upon to take any action which may be of the slightest use to a

Government and a party which for five years has boycotted and

slandered me....

The Paddington election proceeded smoothly to an unopposed return.

Parliament met only to change an Administration and separate for the

holidays.

[Sidenote: 1893 ÆT. 44]

I am living [Lord Randolph wrote to FitzGibbon in November] a very

quiet life in London, mainly occupied in reading books of one kind

and another. I have two discourses to deliver, one at Macclesfield

on the 30th inst. and one at Perth in December. Then _tacebo_. I

hope John Morley will make a final adjustment of the grievances of

those poor Christian Brothers. If I can usefully make any

representations to him, instruct me. We have always been very good

friends. Such Ministers as I have seen declare that they will soon

be turned out; but I cannot see why this should be so. At any rate,

beyond opposing their Home Rule Bill, I shall do nothing to bother

them, as I very greatly prefer them to their predecessors.

This feeling of detachment was soon to be removed. The accession of Mr.

Gladstone to power and the imminence of a Home Rule Bill was bound to

unite in the most effective manner all sections of the Unionist party.

Lord Randolph had, since his return from South Africa, accepted, though

not without embarrassment, an invitation to dine with Lord Salisbury.

‘C’est le premier plat qui coûte,’ wrote Wolff, who highly approved of

the proceeding. Now Chamberlain sent a very friendly letter, and this

was soon followed by a long and agreeable conference. The meetings which

Lord Randolph had consented to address at Perth and Macclesfield in the

autumn must have made his antagonism to the new Government plain; and

only the sudden death of his brother the Duke of Marlborough, in

November, which was a great shock to him, caused those arrangements to

fall through; so that Parliament met in January, 1893, without his

having formally joined himself to the official leaders of the

Opposition.

With the opening of the Session and the beginning of the fight came full

and complete reconciliation. He was urged to take his place again upon

the Front Bench. ‘If it had ever occurred to me,’ wrote Mr. Balfour

(January 30, 1893), ‘that you could sit anywhere but on our bench, I

would have spoken about it to you last night. _Everyone_ desires you

should do so, and _most of all_ yours ever, A. J. B.’ At the meeting of

the Conservative party in the Carlton Club to consider the resistance to

the Home Rule Bill, he kept himself in the background at some distance

from Lord Salisbury. But after all the worthies had spoken, the assembly

still found the proceedings incomplete and loud cries were raised from

all parts of the room for ‘Churchill.’ At first there was no response,

but so continuous and insistent was the demand that Lord Randolph

eventually came forward and in a few simple words, which evoked

remarkable enthusiasm, declared his willingness to serve, to the best of

his ability, in the House of Commons under his friend and political

chief, Mr. Balfour. He was henceforward invited to attend the private

meetings of the Unionist leaders which were held at Devonshire House

during the passage of the Irish Bill, and he took his share in framing

the amendments and deciding upon the policy of the Opposition.

But now, when a new prospect was opening to his view, when he had been

welcomed by the mass of the party, when he had returned to its inmost

councils and ranged himself once again with his old friends and

colleagues in whole-hearted support of a cause which he had long

defended, a dark hand intervened. The great strain to which he had

subjected himself during the struggle against Mr. Gladstone, the

vexations and disappointments of later years and finally the severe

physical exertions and exposure of South Africa had produced in a

neurotic temperament and delicate constitution a very rare and ghastly

disease. During the winter of ‘92 symptoms of vertigo, palpitation, and

numbness of the hands made themselves felt, and his condition was

already a cause of the deepest anxiety to his friends. But it was not

till he rose on the occasion of the introduction of the Home Rule Bill

that the political world realised how great was the change. It happened

that the debate was unexpectedly delayed by a question of privilege. The

suspense proved a strain greater than he could bear with composure and

when he rose his nervousness was extreme, and more to be looked for in

some novice presuming for the first time than in a Parliamentarian of

near twenty years’ standing. He no longer dared to trust his memory:

while the notes of his speech on the first Home Rule Bill had been

written on a single sheet of paper, he now required eighteen. The House,

crowded in every part to hear him, was shocked by his strangely altered

appearance. It seemed incredible that this bald and bearded man with

shaking hands and a white face drawn with pain and deeply marked with

the lines of care and illness, and with a voice whose tremulous tones

already betrayed the fatal difficulty of articulation, could be that

same brilliant audacious leader who in the flush of exultant youth had

marched irresistibly to power through the stormy days of 1886.

Yet the quality of his speech showed no signs of intellectual failing.

Avoiding the network of details in which so many speakers had stumbled,

he presented a broad intelligible picture. Lucid and original

expression, close and careful reasoning, wealth of knowledge, quaint

Randolphian witticisms--all were there. Although much of the charm and

force of his manner was gone, his statement was considered by good and

impartial judges to have been, with the exception of Mr. Chamberlain’s,

the best speech delivered against the Bill.

And he was destined to have one last flicker of success. Once again was

he to encounter, not unequally, his majestic antagonist; once again

those he had been so proud to lead, were to sustain him with triumphant

acclamation. Exactly a week after his reappearance he was entrusted with

the conclusion of the debate on the Welsh Church Suspensory Bill. The

trying circumstances of his first effort were no longer present and the

feeling that he had broken the ice comforted him. His whole condition

varied sensibly from day to day. This was his good day. The House seemed

friendly to him; his spirits responded to its mood, and for the moment

he seemed to recover all, or nearly all, of his former power. Anyone who

will take the trouble to read in Hansard the intricate and sustained

argument and the ready rejoinders of the speech will see that the vigour

of his mind was unimpaired. Triumph came at the end. Putting aside his

notes, he began a fierce and sparkling attack on Mr. Gladstone. It is

the last quotation I shall make:--

‘What motive has influenced the right honourable gentleman and his

colleagues to propose this measure to the House? It is not, as the

member for Hertford said, “plunder.” That is the local motive. The

political motive is widely different. It is undoubtedly to secure votes

for their Irish policy. On behalf of that Irish policy nothing must be

spared--not even the Established Church in Wales. Votes! Votes! Votes!

That is the cry of the right honourable gentleman, and that is the

political morality which he preaches.

‘Hæc Janus summus ab imo

Prodocet. Hæc recinunt juvenes dictata senesque.

Votes at any cost, votes at any price. Refrain from nothing that can get

you votes; adhere to nothing that can prevent your getting votes--the

votes which alone can accomplish the political salvation of the Liberal

party. I see before me,’ he continued, backed by the clamorous growing

support of the great party from whom he had been so long estranged,

‘many distinguished gentlemen, as able as any that this country can

produce, in the administration of public departments. But do you call

that a Government? Whom do you govern? One day the Government is at the

mercy of the Irish party; another day it is at the mercy of the Welsh

party; and on a third day yet to come it will be in the power of the

Scotch party. The Government is absolutely in the power of any of the

three sections of its majority. It must concede when any section makes a

demand. An English Government has never yet been conducted on such

principles--better suited to a Whitechapel auction than to the conduct

of our State.’

This characteristic attack produced an electrical effect upon Mr.

Gladstone, and the years seemed to fall from his shoulders as he rose at

once to reply. ‘I accept,’ he cried, ‘the monosyllabic invocation of the

noble lord and I say “Vote, Vote, Vote” for both Welsh Disestablishment

and Home Rule.’ And in the course of a rejoinder which, though brief,

was inferior to few, if any, of his later speeches, he cast back the

reproaches of the Opposition and roused and rallied the enthusiasm of

his followers amid a storm of cheers and counter-cheers. The First

Reading passed by a majority of 56 in an angry and excited House, and

the members hurried home, saying that the days of the ‘eighties’ were

come back and that Randolph was himself again.

FitzGibbon, who was increasingly his correspondent, kept him supplied

with an inexhaustible stream of fact and fancy upon the Irish Bill, and

Lord Randolph’s replies to his old friend constitute a sufficient

account of his Parliamentary doings and domestic affairs:--

Branksome Dene, Bournemouth: January 15, 1893.

Many thanks for your letter. I am happy to say Winston is going on

well and making a good and on the whole rapid recovery. He had a

miraculous escape from being smashed to pieces, as he fell thirty

feet off a bridge over a chine, from which he tried to leap to the

bough of a tree. What dreadfully foolhardy and reckless things boys

do! We have a sharp return of the cold, and snow is all about. I

keep thinking of my good time in Ireland, which was the best I have

had for a long time.

50 Grosvenor Square, W.: February 18, 1893.

Just a line to thank you for your letter. I imagine the speech

produced not unsatisfactory effects. I was awfully ‘jumpy.’ The

damned Bill is out, and I should greatly like from you, if you had

spare time, a _critique raisonnée_ of it. I shall have to make some

speeches--probably one to a great meeting in Scotland at Easter

time. The Second Reading is fixed for March 13, but this may be

only a nominal date. I am very anxious about the result when it

comes to a General Election. It is on England we must concentrate

our efforts.

50 Grosvenor Square, W.: March 15, 1893.

It is most good of you taking so much trouble for me in respect of

that measure, but I will try and make the best use of all you send

me, and the ‘lawyer’s notes’ may develop into orations which may

electrify the country. If one can trust the statements of the

Unionist Press, the Bill has absolutely no prospects or chances of

passing. All the heart, what little there ever was, has been taken

out of the Repealers by the postponement of the Second Reading. I

only hope the end may not come too quick. The Local Veto Bill has

infuriated the liquor interest even more than the H. R. Bill has

Ulster.

I do not think the G. O. M. has influenza, but it may be some time

before we see him again in the House of Commons.

50 Grosvenor Square, W.: March 29, 1893.

You are really too good, and I am shocked to have added so much to

your work. Your notes will be most valuable to me and I am looking

forward to their arrival. You will see that I loosed off last night

against Mr. G. and Morley. I think our party were very much

pleased. The old man is pressing us very hard with his demands for

the time of Parliament and his refusal to give decent holidays. I

have counselled that we do not enter on a futile resistance in

which we must be overborne. I am all for giving him rope; he is

sure to get into a terrible mess sooner or later.

I have a busy Easter before me. Political discourses at Liverpool

and Perth, and I shall not get back to London till April 14. I

shall keep your notes, though more for Parliamentary purposes; they

will be too good for public meetings. With many thanks and much

gratitude.

Penshurst: April 30, 1893.

Well, we have had three important meetings at Devonshire House--D.

of D., M. of S., Joe C., Arthur B., Goschen, Sir Henry J.,

Atkinson, and myself. With the general result I am much pleased. I

contended hard for the principle that none of our amendments should

be in any sense constructive, nothing that could give rise to an

idea that we were drifting into anything like an alternative

scheme. Joe C. was much for leading us in this way, but Devonshire

and Salisbury were very firm and the mischief was averted. Then

there was another great danger avoided. Joe C., A. B., and Goschen

were rather strongly in favour of an amendment excluding Ulster

from the Bill. Your powers of reflection and discernment will show

you at once what a horrid and dangerous trap that would have let us

into. However, thanks again to Salisbury and Devonshire, the idea

was dropped.

No amendments will be moved by any of us, but some have been drawn

and will be given to others. James’ amendments to the fifth clause

are very ingenious. But I shall send you a paper of amendments

marked after next Friday. We are to meet on Fridays when the H. R.

Bill is in Committee. Government will not get their Committee

Thursday: at the earliest not before Monday. I have not been very

well lately, and the last three days have had a dreadful cough,

which would quite have incapacitated me from speaking. I hope now

it is yielding to treatment, and fortunately I have had no speeches

to make. I am full of hope. There is much rumour that Mr. G. will

go to the House of Lords. Harcourt is certainly very unwell.

Belfast seems to have settled down. I have several speeches in the

country before me in May. Write to me when you have time, but not

in those horrid envelopes.

50 Grosvenor Square.

I have just delivered a twenty minutes’ speech in the House of

Commons on the case of the Christian Brothers. We had a large

majority against the Ulster Bill. You will find a passage in

Morley’s speech in which he said that he still hoped for an

arrangement, and that if he was a member of the Board [of National

Education] he should expect to be able to discover a method. The

Tories are, I expect, very cross with me.

I think you can now go to work again.

50 Grosvenor Square, W.: July 11, 1893.

I wish you had not written in so uncomplimentary a strain about

Rosebery. I would have shown it him but for that. I have the very

highest opinion of his work,[76] and always describe it as a

literary diamond. Now please write me another letter, more

complimentary. You can bring out all the views which have occurred

to you without accusing him of absolute ignorance of Ireland.

Remember, he was in a very awkward position, and Mr. Gladstone was

very cold to him after the work appeared. After all, he made one of

the most luminous expositions of the benefits of the Union and that

covers every error. Do do what I ask, for I am very fond of

Rosebery and very intimate with him, and I always look forward to

being in a Government with him. He likes you very much, and knows

on what intimate terms you and I are. Write me a review, not longer

than your letter, fair and _raisonné_. It will not take you long,

and it might do a great deal of good.

This is not the place to describe the stormy and protracted Session of

1893. The ruthless persistency of the Government; the stubborn

resistance of the Conservative party; the inch-by-inch struggle in

Committee; Chamberlain’s keen and unceasing attack from below the

gangway; the venerable figure of the Prime Minister, erect and

unflinching, at the table; the mutilated procedure of Parliament; and

the rising storm of partisanship on both sides contribute to an account

which seems to approach by sure gradations a violent climax. Lord

Randolph has left a record, in the form of a private letter to the

Speaker, of the explosion:--

_Lord Randolph Churchill to the Speaker._[77]

50 Grosvenor Square: July 29, 1893.

I am desirous of submitting to you a true account of the

disturbance and the real cause of the disorder which occurred in

the House of Commons on Thursday night.

The cry of ‘Judas’ was the retort to Mr. Chamberlain’s expression

‘Herod.’ But Mr. Chamberlain has never taken any notice of it on

previous occasions, nor did he on Thursday night, for I saw him

smiling; and I do not consider that this exclamation was, except in

a certain sense, the real cause of the turmoil. When Mr. Balfour

left the House he told me that in the event of a division we were

to vote with the Government against Mr. Clancy’s amendment, a

course in which I thoroughly concurred. I did not know the

tremendous passions which were raging behind me. The division had

begun and I was already proceeding into the Lobby, when, turning

round, I saw that scarcely a single member of the party had moved.

I returned, and told them of Mr. Balfour’s wishes, and begged them

to go into the ‘No’ Lobby. But I was met by cries that they would

not divide, and I ascertained that Mr. Vicary Gibbs had been trying

to raise a point of order on the question of the cry ‘Judas,’ and,

because that had not been settled, this very considerable section

of the Opposition would not on any account divide. I thought it

obvious that a point of order could not be decided when a division

had been called, for the reason that a number of members had left

the House for the Lobby. I urged upon them that not leaving their

seats to vote was the gravest violation of the rules of the House,

but all to no purpose. I therefore proceeded myself into the Lobby,

where there was a small muster of Liberals, three or four

Ministers, but none, so far as I could see, of the Opposition.

We waited for about two minutes, when the sound of a great noise

reached us. We returned to the House; the floor was crowded with

members, all standing; there was much scuffling; and certainly the

scene was the most appalling I ever witnessed. I made my way to the

Front Opposition Bench again, and implored the occupants of the

Opposition benches to come into the Lobby to record their votes.

There was still time to take the division, if only they would have

moved from their seats; but all my efforts were more useless than

before.

When you took the Chair, Sir, Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Balfour

(neither of whom had seen all that passed) informed you that you

had been sent for to decide a point of order as to the propriety of

the cry ‘Judas.’ With all respect nothing could have been more

inaccurate. I lay down confidently that the whole disorder arose

from the Opposition members being determined not to take part in

the division and from the Chairman seeming not to know that he

could compel them to do so under pain of very severe penalties.

I must excuse myself for wearying you, Sir, with this long

statement, but I would make two justifications: (1) I read there is

a possibility of an inquiry into the cause of the disturbance, and

I am anxious that my evidence should be before you; (2) that there

has been so much disorder and defiance of the authority of the

Chairman of Committees by individual members of all parties during

the progress of the Government of Ireland Bill that if it is not

checked by the high authority which resides in yourself, Sir, the

House of Commons will go from bad to worse, and it is impossible

to foresee to what extent it may change its character in a very

short time.

Lord Randolph’s speech on the Welsh Church was his last Parliamentary

success. Throughout the passage of the Home Rule Bill he held his place

in the front rank of the Opposition and took a regular and not

undistinguished part in the debates. In the Easter recess his speeches

to large audiences at Liverpool and Perth commanded the attention of the

country, and now, as in former years, he provided his party with an

inexhaustible supply of catchwords and homely arguments. But the fire

and force of his oratory were gone, never to return; and as the Session

drew on, his difficulties of utterance and of memory increased, and the

severe and unrelenting labour exhausted the remnants of his strength.

Several times in the hot summer months he failed to hold the attention

of the House and even sometimes to make himself understood. Once,

indeed, the members grew impatient and the House was filled with

restless murmurs. But his friends--some of them his most distinguished

opponents--rallied to him, checked the interruptions, and tried

perseveringly to make all look smooth and successful. And in these days

it was observed that Mr. Gladstone would always be in his place to pay

the greatest attention to his speeches and to reply elaborately to such

arguments as he had advanced.

Lord Randolph Churchill was acutely conscious of his failing powers and

the realisation roused him to immense exertions. A year before he had

hardly cared for political affairs. Now he plunged desperately into the

struggle. Others around him encountered the measures of a Liberal

Administration. He faced a different foe. With the whole strength of his

will he fought against the oncoming decay. He refused to accept defeat.

He redoubled his labours. If five hours no longer sufficed for the

preparation of a speech--he would take five days. If his memory played

him false, it must be exercised the more. If the House of Commons was

escaping from his grip, he would see whether the people would still hear

him.

During the months of May and June he spoke at no fewer than ten

important meetings--at Reading, Bolton, Macclesfield, Leicester,

Carlisle, Pontefract, Boston and other big towns. Everywhere he was

received by immense audiences and frequently he succeeded, as of old, in

arousing their interest and enthusiasm. The fertility of his mind and

the store of political knowledge and expression he had accumulated were

astonishing. Almost every one of these speeches was reported verbatim in

the _Times_ newspaper. All were confined to the single subject of the

Home Rule Bill and the circumstances that attended its passage. No

repetition of argument or phrase can be detected in the entire series of

speeches.

It was at this time that he looked towards Bradford. That city had even

before the General Election invited him to contest its central

division. His eye for a political country was as good as ever. To

persuade a great commercial centre to change its party allegiance, to be

returned at the election with three solid seats won for the Unionist

cause, to entrench himself in the heart of Yorkshire was a plan most

attractive to his nature; and had he lived, these objects would

certainly have been accomplished; for all divisions of Bradford returned

Unionist members to the Parliament of 1895 and that condition continues

to this day. On May 26 he addressed a large meeting in the St. George’s

Hall. His candidature was adopted with enthusiasm by the local

Conservatives. Meetings were held, the organisation was improved, the

Unionist press was strengthened and supported, and a new impulse was

imparted to the Conservative movement throughout the whole district.

For the autumn of 1893 he prepared a further extensive campaign all over

the country, and he convinced himself that it was still in his power to

raise a great wave of democratic excitement that would shake the

Government and establish his position before the world. In order to

collect all his strength for this effort he withdrew before the end of

the Session to Kissingen and Gastein and submitted himself to the

strictest discipline that the doctors could advise. The quiet peaceful

life, with its simple routine of baths, walks and long drives, when the

afternoon sun cast the shade of the forest and the hills over half the

valley, seemed for a time to restore his health: and he hastened to

write glowing accounts to his mother of the improvement. But these

appearances were illusory and, underneath, the process of dissolution

went remorselessly forward.

One incident--not unworthy of record--diversified the weeks at Kissingen

and lighted up the autumn of 1893.

_To his Mother._

_August 7._--The sensation of yesterday was the visit of Prince

Bismarck. We had left cards on him the day before, and I did not

expect he would do more than return them. However, yesterday the

weather was showery, and as Jennie was rather seedy we did not go

our usual drive. I was reading the papers when a great big Chasseur

appeared and informed me that the Fürst von Bismarck was in his

carriage at the door and was asking for me. I hurried downstairs

and met the Prince at his carriage. He came up to our rooms--which

luckily are on the first floor--and sat down, and we began to

converse. I had sent off a message to Jennie, who had gone to the

Kurhaus to see a friend. So I had about a quarter of an hour in

which to talk to the Prince. I will tell you of his appearance. He

is seventy-eight--so he told me afterwards--but he looks so much

younger than Mr. Gladstone that in fact you would hardly give him

more than seventy-three or seventy-four years. He looked in good

health, and came upstairs without the slightest difficulty. We

discussed various subjects, which I will go through _seriatim_. We

spoke in English; but whether it was for that reason, though he

spoke very correctly, he struck me as being nervous. Perhaps it was

meeting with a total stranger, because he had never seen me before.

However, he was most gracious and seemed very anxious to please.

You may imagine that I did my very best to please him, for I

thought it a great honour for this old Prince to come and see us.

The conversation began on Kissingen--the baths, the waters, &c. He

told me he had first come here in 1874, and had been here almost

every year since. He gave up drinking the waters about eight years

ago, but he continues to take baths, and thinks they do him good.

After this I asked him why he never went now to Gastein. He said,

laughing, ‘Oh, Gastein is a peculiar water to some

people--sometimes dangerous’; that he knew two of his friends who

died of apoplexy when taking the baths; and added that his doctor

had told him that Gastein was the last resource; and he remarked,

‘And I am seventy-eight,’ and seemed quite pleased about it. Then

he talked about the Emperor William on a question as to whether

Gastein had not added some years to his life. He quite admitted it,

and told me that for many years the Emperor used to go to Carlsbad,

when he used to accompany him; and this reminiscence seemed very

pleasing to him. In talking of the Emperor he always used the

expression ‘my old master.’

Then I turned the conversation on to Siam, and asked him whether he

did not think it was a satisfactory settlement. He appeared to

agree and began speaking in this connection of M. Jules Ferry. He

regretted his loss, and said that Jules Ferry was the best man that

France had had for years, and joked a little about his

appearance--long whiskers, &c. Then he went on to say that he

thought, if Jules Ferry had remained in power, a very good

arrangement and condition would have come about between the Germans

and the French. He said that he had nearly concluded an agreement

between himself and Jules Ferry that France should remain on

friendly and peaceful terms with Germany, and that he (Prince B.)

would support France in Tunis and Siam, and generally in her

Eastern colonisation. Then I remarked about Siam that Rosebery had

learned out of his book this principle--to ask for no more than he

required, but to insist on getting what he required, and to treat

with neglect what was not essential. He said that was so and he

went on to praise Rosebery, and described him as a good combination

of will and caution, and added that of all English statesmen he was

the one who was most modest and quiet in his acts and attitude.

Of course, no conversation would be complete without a reference to

Mr. Gladstone, to which I led him. He, of course, began by

admitting that Mr. Gladstone was very eloquent; but that he had

always been like an ungovernable horse whom no one could ride in

any bridle, and was not to be controlled in any way. He used a

German adjective to describe the horse, which I have forgotten; but

seeing his drift, and in reply to his question what was the English

expression for the German word, I said ‘ungovernable and

unmanageable and hard to ride’ would express it, and I remarked

that in England people often called such a horse a ‘rogue.’ On

which he turned his face to me with a smile, but said nothing,

though he clearly understood the allusion. He further in

conversation said that he should be very alarmed and anxious if

such a man as Mr. Gladstone governed ‘my country.’ Then Jennie

arrived and he talked mainly to her for a few minutes, when he

announced that his son Herbert and his recently married wife

arrived that afternoon to stay a few days with him, and that he

hoped we should see something of them.

Without doubt this Prince and statesman has a most powerful

attraction. The whole of his career, from the time when he was

First Minister of the King and fought the Parliament, to the time

of the proclamation of the German Empire at Versailles, seems to me

more intelligible now, and at the same time a work that only this

man could have carried out or even conceived the possibility of. I

never took my eyes off his face while he was talking to me and kept

trying to fix it in my memory. For all his quiet manner his

qualities would be apparent to any observer of experience; you can

trace the iron will in great emergencies which has so frequently

borne him up, all the calm courage for which the North Germans are

peculiarly distinguished, and yet with all that--in spite of the

recollection of the great things he had done--no trace of pride, no

sign of condescension, but perfectly gracious and polite, a true

_Grand Seigneur_. He carried himself at his age as erect as a

soldier, and for all his long black coat and his rather old black,

soft, low-crowned wideawake hat he looks all over what he is--the

combination, so rarely seen in this century, of statesman and

General.

This friendly conversation, proving mutually agreeable, was followed by

an invitation to dinner with the Bismarck family. ‘We dined,’ so runs

the account, ‘in the hall of an old Bishop’s palace, on the first floor,

which a friend of the Prince owns and lends him every year. It was of

large and fine proportion. At one end we assembled before dinner; at the

other end the table was laid. The dinner was a regular old-fashioned

German dinner, a little _bourgeois_ (like the Berlin Court under the old

Emperor), but everything was dignified as to the table--the food, the

wine, the old servants--and, though very different to our ideas, had

really _un air noble_. All this was greatly added to by the presence of

the Prince, his impressive appearance, and the combination of respect

and affection which all his family and those friends that were dining,

showed him. His good spirits and excellent humour and his sustained

support of the conversation--sometimes with Jennie, sometimes with me,

sometimes with Herbert and his wife--can never be forgotten by anyone

who saw it.’

Lord Randolph sat next to Prince Bismarck and was so occupied in

observing him and the scene generally that he took but little part in

the conversation. The picture was complete--the Princess, feeble and

broken in health; Count Herbert and his wife; the famous black

wolf-hounds which once upon a time frightened Gortschakoff so much;

Bismarck himself, ‘speaking English very carefully and slowly,

frequently pausing to get the right word, but always producing it, or

something like it, in the end’; drinking a mixture of very old hock

poured into a needle-glass of champagne--‘“the last bottle [of hock], a

present from ----,” a Grand Duke whose name I cannot remember’--at length

arriving at his great pipe, prepared all ready for him by a venerable

retainer, ‘stem two feet in length, curved mouthpiece, bowl long and

large in china and standing up square with the stem, lighted by broad

wooden safety-matches to prevent him burning his fingers; and all the

time running on in talk brisk and light, always courtly and genial,

never quite serious.’

‘I did not dare,’ declares Lord Randolph, ‘to drink this old hock, and

only sipped it. The Prince, who was joking, said to Jennie that he was

very sorry I had not drunk my share, as it would cause him to drink too

much and he would be “half over the seas.”’ Presently he wanted to know

about Mr. Gladstone. He would be useful in putting to rights the

disorders of German finance. Would the English people exchange him for

General Caprivi? ‘I told him,’ writes Lord Randolph shamelessly, ‘that

the English people would cheerfully give him Mr. Gladstone for nothing,

but that he would find him an expensive present!’ So with chaff and good

temper the evening passed away--pleasant, memorable, one of the last he

was to know.

[Sidenote: 1894 ÆT. 45]

Lord Randolph returned from Germany none the better for his rest and

plunged forthwith into an exhausting campaign. What experience can be

more painful than for a man who enjoys the fullest intellectual vigour,

and whose blood is quite unchilled by age, to feel the whole apparatus

of expression slipping sensibly from him? He struggled against his fate

desperately, and at first with intervals of profound depression. But, as

the malady progressed, the inscrutable workings of Nature provided a

mysterious anodyne. By a queer contradiction it is ordained that an

all-embracing optimism should be one of the symptoms of this fell

disease. The victim becomes continually less able to realise his

condition. In the midst of failure he is cheered by an artificial

consciousness of victory. While the days are swiftly ebbing, he builds

large plans for the future; and a rosy glow of sunset conceals the

approach of night. Therefore as Lord Randolph’s faculties were steadily

impaired, his determination to persevere was inversely strengthened; and

in spite of the advice and appeals of his family, by which he was deeply

wounded, he carried out in its entirety the whole programme of speeches

he had arranged. Huddersfield, Stalybridge, Bedford, Yarmouth, Dundee,

Glasgow, Bradford and Camborne followed each other in quick succession

in October and November. But the crowds who were drawn by the old

glamour of his name, departed sorrowful and shuddering at the spectacle

of a dying man, and those who loved him were consumed with

embarrassment and grief. It is needless to dwell longer upon this.

[Sidenote: 1895 ÆT. 46]

He spent Christmas at Howth. The old circle of friends were gathered

once more, and they saw with sadness that their hopes of his return to

power, cherished for so many years, would never be fulfilled. When he

came back to England for the beginning of the Session, the hounds were

hard upon his track. But it was not till June that he consented to

yield. The doctors ordered complete rest. ‘They told me,’ he wrote to

his mother, ‘that I was to give up political life for a year. I did not

agree directly, but said I would think it over. I returned next day and

explained to them my plan [of a journey round the world]. Of this they

fully approved.’ And now followed only a few dinners of farewell to good

friends--who knew they would never see him again--and busy preparations

for a long journey. He sailed, with his wife, for America on June 27

under a sentence of death, operative within twelve months; and he

realised perfectly that his time was very short. But now Nature began

mercifully to apply increasing doses of her own anæsthetics, and for the

space there was yet to travel he suffered less than those who watched

him. Indeed, in an odd way he was positively happy in these last few

months; for the changing scenes kept him from sombre reflections, and

the increasing attention which he paid to details of all kinds occupied

his mind. Nothing was too small to command his interest, and neither in

America nor in Japan was ever seen so methodical a tourist. The light

faded steadily. At intervals small blood-vessels would break in the

brain, producing temporary coma, and leaving always a little less memory

or faculty behind. His physical strength held out till he reached Burma,

‘which I annexed,’ and which he had earnestly desired to see. But when

it failed, the change was sudden and complete. The journey was

curtailed, and in the last days of 1894 he reached England as weak and

helpless in mind and body as a little child. For a month, at his

mother’s house, he lingered pitifully, until very early in the morning

of January 24 the numbing fingers of paralysis laid that weary brain to

rest.

The illness of Lord Randolph Churchill had been followed with attention

throughout the country, and the tragic termination of his career evoked

greater manifestations of sympathy than are accorded to many who have

played a longer part in the world’s affairs. Politicians of all ranks

and parties attended the service in Westminster Abbey. Large crowds

assembled in the streets through which the funeral procession passed.

The journey lay, by a strange coincidence, from Paddington to Woodstock.

The London terminus was thronged with representatives of the

Metropolitan constituency. Woodstock gathered around the churchyard at

Bladon. Thither, too, came deputations of the Birmingham Tories and

Irish friends. Over the landscape, brilliant with sunshine, snow had

spread a glittering pall. He lies close by the tower of the village

church, and the plain granite cross which marks the spot, can almost be

discerned, across a mile of lawn and meadow, from the great house which

was his childhood’s home, and whose sinister motto his varied fortunes

had not ill-sustained. A statue is erected to his memory in Blenheim

Chapel; and a bust by the same hand was set up in the House of Commons

by private subscription among the members, and unveiled with a few

simple and well-chosen words by his oldest and truest political comrade,

Sir Michael Hicks-Beach.

* * * * *

The story of Lord Randolph Churchill’s life is complete in itself and

needs no comment from the teller. That he was a great elemental force in

British politics, that he was broken irrecoverably at the moment of

maturity, should be evident from these pages. It is idle to speculate

upon what his work and fortunes might have been, had he continued to

lead the House of Commons and influence against its inclinations the

Conservative party. It is certain only that the course of domestic

policy in Finance, in Temperance and other social questions would have

been widely deflected from that which has been in fact pursued. Most of

all, perhaps, was Ireland a loser by his downfall; for more than any

other Unionist of authority he understood the Irish people--their pride,

their wants, their failings, their true inspiration. What would have

happened to him, aye, and to others had he lived the ordinary span of

men--after all, he was but forty-six--are questionings even more shadowy

and unreal. How would he have regarded a naval and military expenditure

of seventy millions in time of peace? What would he have thought of the

later developments of those Imperialistic ideas, the rise of which he

had powerfully, yet almost unconsciously, aided? What action would have

been wrung from him by the stresses of the South African war? Would he,

under the many riddles the future had reserved for such as he, have

snapped the tie of sentiment that bound him to his party, resolved at

last to ‘shake the yoke of inauspicious stars’; or would he by combining

its Protectionist appetites with the gathering forces of labour have

endeavoured to repeat as a Tory-Socialist in the new century the

triumphs of the Tory-Democrat in the old?

For all its sense of incompleteness, of tragic interruption, his life

presents a harmony and unity of purpose and view. Verbal consistency is

of small value. Yet even his verbal consistency was not especially open

to challenge. But the ‘climate of opinion’ in which he lived, the mood

and intention with which he faced the swiftly changing problems of a

stormy period, were never sensibly or erratically altered. The

principles and convictions which he developed in the Parliament of

1874, and professed during the Parliament of 1880, were those, which

guided him to the end. That the period was brief in which he swayed and

almost dominated the Conservative party is not wonderful. The marvel is

that he should ever have won to power in it at all. Only the peculiar

conditions of the Parliament of 1880, in the House of Commons and out of

doors, made his career, as I have described it, a possibility, and

enabled him to attack a Liberal Government for oppression and war and to

appeal to a Conservative party in the name of Peace, Retrenchment and

Reform. Tory Democracy was necessarily a compromise (perilously near a

paradox in the eye of a partisan) between widely different forces and

ideas: ancient permanent institutions becoming the instruments of

far-reaching social reforms: order conjoined with liberty; stability and

yet progress; the Tory party and daring legislation! Yet narrow as was

the path along which he moved, multitudes began to follow. Illogical and

unsymmetrical as the idea might seem--an idea not even novel--it grew

vital and true at his touch. At a time when Liberal formulas and Tory

inertia seemed alike chill and comfortless, he warmed the heart of

England and strangely stirred the imagination of her people.

He contained in his nature and in his policy all the elements necessary

to ruin and success. If the principles he championed from 1880 to 1885

were the cause of his rise, they were also the cause of his fall. All

his pledges he faithfully fulfilled. The Government changed. The vast

preponderance of power in the State passed from one great party to the

other. Lord Randolph Churchill remained exactly the same. He thought and

said the same sort of things about foreign and domestic policy, about

armaments and expenditure, about Ireland, about Egypt, while he was a

Minister as he had done before. He continued to repeat them after he had

left office for ever. The hopes he had raised among the people, the

promises he had made, the great support and honour he had received from

them, seemed to require of him strenuous exertions. And when all

exertions had failed, he paid cheerfully the fullest and the only

forfeit in his power.

Lord Randolph Churchill’s name will not be recorded upon the bead-roll

of either party. The Conservatives, whose forces he so greatly

strengthened, the Liberals, some of whose finest principles he notably

sustained, must equally regard his life and work with mingled feelings.

A politician’s character and position are measured in his day by party

standards. When he is dead all that he achieved in the name of party, is

at an end. The eulogies and censures of partisans are powerless to

affect his ultimate reputation. The scales wherein he was weighed are

broken. The years to come bring weights and measures of their own.

There is an England which stretches far beyond the well-drilled masses

who are assembled by party machinery to salute with appropriate

acclamation the utterances of their recognised fuglemen; an England of

wise men who gaze without self-deception at the failings and follies of

both political parties; of brave and earnest men who find in neither

faction fair scope for the effort that is in them; of ‘poor men’ who

increasingly doubt the sincerity of party philanthropy. It was to that

England that Lord Randolph Churchill appealed; it was that England he so

nearly won; it is by that England he will be justly judged.

APPENDICES

V

_TWO ELECTION ADDRESSES_

1886.

_To the Electors of South Paddington._

Gentlemen,--A ‘people’s dissolution’ has come upon us. Such is the title

given by Mr. Gladstone to the most wanton political convulsion which

has, in our time, afflicted our country. The caprice of an individual is

elevated to the dignity of an act of the people by the boundless egoism

of the Prime Minister. The United Kingdom is to be disunited for the

purpose of securing in office, if only for a little while, by the aid of

a disloyal faction subsisting on foreign gold, a Government deserted by

all who could confer upon it character or reputation.

Mr. Gladstone has reserved for his closing days a conspiracy against the

honour of Britain and the welfare of Ireland more startlingly base and

nefarious than any of those other numerous designs and plots which,

during the last quarter of a century, have occupied his imagination. Nor

are the results of the repeal of the Union, whatever they may be, a

matter of moment to him. No practical responsibility for those results

will fall upon his shoulders. He regards with the utmost unconcern, or

with inconceivable frivolity, the fact that upon those who come after

him will devolve the impossible labour of rebuilding a shattered empire,

of re-uniting a divided kingdom. Let a credulous electorate give him,

for the third time, a Parliamentary majority by the aid of which another

Irish revolution may be consummated, and this most moderate of

Ministers will be satisfied, will complacently retire to that repose for

which he tells us ‘nature cries aloud.’ Nature, to whose cries he has

for so long turned a stone-deaf ear.

This design for the separation of Ireland from Britain, this insane

recurrence to heptarchical arrangements, this trafficking with treason,

this condonation of crime, this exaltation of the disloyal, this

abasement of the loyal, this desertion of our Protestant

co-religionists, this monstrous mixture of imbecility, extravagance and

political hysterics, better known as ‘the Bill for the future Government

of Ireland,’ is furnished by its author with the most splendid

attributes and clothed in the loftiest language. (1) Under its operation

a nation of slaves paying tribute is to be filled with exuberant love

for Britain which it now hates, but with which it is now on a footing of

perfect political equality. (2) Persons who have subsisted and

flourished on the effects of crime and outrage are to be immediately

transformed into governors wise, moral and humane. (3) A peasantry which

has for years exhibited a marked disinclination to pay contract rents to

many landlords will instantly commence and for the next fifty years

continue with cheerful alacrity and fidelity to pay rent to one single

landlord; that landlord, moreover, assuming the garb of a foreign and

alien Government. (4) A people without manufactures, longing for

protection by which to create and foster manufactures, are to become in

a moment ardent converts to the blessings of free trade. (5) A

Parliament, in which any and every legislative project or deliberative

proceeding or executive act, may be vetoed for three years, is to abound

in rapid legislation, and to surpass our ancient historic Parliament in

efficiency of procedure. (6) A financial system, under which by no

possibility can revenue be adequate to expenditure, is to perform

prodigies of economy and ‘to scatter plenty o’er a smiling land.’ (7) A

pauper population is to roll in riches. (8) Law and order and rights of

property are immediately to take their place as the most sacred and

cherished institutions of a country a great portion of whose people

hitherto, from time immemorial, have regarded them only to deride them

and violate them, &c. &c.

The united and concentrated genius of Bedlam and Colney Hatch would

strive in vain to produce a more striking tissue of absurdities.

Yet this is the policy, the last specific for Ireland, which is gravely

recommended by senile vanity to the favourable consideration of a people

renowned for common sense, the possessors of an Empire erected and

preserved by the constant flow of common sense and, I doubt not, the

progenitors of a posterity equally powerful, equally courageous and

equally wise.

For the sake of this fifth message of peace to Ireland, this farrago of

superlative nonsense, the vexatious and costly machinery of a general

election is to be put in motion, all business other than what may be

connected with political agitation, is to be impeded and suspended;

trade and commercial enterprise, now suffering sadly from protracted bad

times, and which political stability can alone re-invigorate, are to be

further harassed and handicapped; all useful and desired reforms are to

be indefinitely postponed, the British Constitution is to be torn up,

the Liberal party shivered into fragments.

And why? For this reason and no other: To gratify the ambition of an old

man in a hurry.

How long, gentlemen, will you and your brother electors tolerate this

one-man power?

Since 1868, when this one-man power began to show itself in an acute

form, have you enjoyed domestic security or foreign credit?

From that time to the present day, Ireland has been a struggling victim

in Mr. Gladstone’s hands. The Irish Church, a great agency for moral,

social, and religious order, has been swept away; two special

confiscations of landed property were confidently recommended to, and

accepted by, Parliament as certain to produce peace; six coercion Acts

of the most stringent character Mr. Gladstone has obtained; and all to

no purpose. Confusion has become worse confounded; the fabric of

Government in Ireland has been shattered; lawlessness and disorder have

been triumphant and supreme; the present state of Ireland is one of

‘grave disease,’ says Mr. John Morley; and the blame is cast by Mr.

Gladstone on the system, on the Constitution, on the Union.

It would be as reasonable to cast the blame upon the Equator.

The blame for this disgrace cannot be cast upon the system or upon the

Constitution or upon the Union.

The blame must be borne by the man who has been Minister and who is

Minister now.

Under the baneful insecurity which is inseparably connected with his

name, your trade has gone from bad to worse, your Parliament has become

demoralised, your foreign credit shaken, your colonies alienated, your

Indian Empire imperilled.

Naturally enough, Ireland has suffered most of all, for Ireland, of all

the Queen’s dominions, was least able to stand a strain.

What frightful and irreparable Imperial catastrophe is necessary to tear

the British people from the influence of this fetish, this idol, this

superstition, which has brought upon them and upon the Irish unnumbered

woes?

The negotiator of the ‘Alabama’ arbitration, the hero of the Transvaal

surrender, the perpetrator of the bombardment of Alexandria, the

decimator of the struggling Soudan tribes, the betrayer of Khartoum, the

person guilty of the death of Gordon, the patentee of the Penjdeh shame,

now stands before the country all alone, rejected by a democratic House

of Commons.

No longer can he conceal his personality under the shelter of the

Liberal party. One hundred members of that party in Parliament,

representing thousands of electors, refused, in spite of all manner of

blandishments, deceits and menaces, to support his Irish measure. All

his colleagues have abandoned him. From the Duke of Argyll to Mr.

Bright, from Lord Hartington to Mr. Chamberlain, one by one he has shed

them all; none is near him of his former colleagues save certain

placemen unworthy of notice. Last, but not least, the leading lights of

Nonconformity, such as Dr. Dale and Mr. Spurgeon, hitherto the pillars

of the Liberal party, stand aloof in utter dismay.

Known to the country under various ‘aliases’--‘the People’s William,’

‘the Grand Old Man,’ ‘the old Parliamentary hand,’ now, in the part of

‘the Grand electioneering agent,’ he demands a vote of confidence from

the constituencies.

Confidence in what?

In the Liberal party? No! The Liberal party, as we knew it, exists no

longer. In his Irish project? No! It is dead; to be resuscitated or not,

either wholly or in part, just as may suit the personal convenience of

the author. In his Government? No! They are a mere collection of

‘items,’ whom he does not condescend to consult. In himself? Yes!

This is the latest and most perilous innovation into our constitutional

practices. A pure unadulterated personal _plébiscite_, that is the

demand; a political expedient borrowed from the last and worst days of

the Second Empire.

Gentlemen, it is time that some one should speak out. I have written to

you plainly, some may think strongly; but whatever the English

vocabulary may contain of plainness and strength is inadequate to

describe truly and to paint realistically the present political

situation.

At this moment, so critical, we have not got to deal with a Government,

or a party, or a policy. We have to deal with a man; with a man who

makes the most unparalleled claim for dictatorial power which can be

conceived by free men. It is for that reason that I deliberately

addressed myself to the personal aspects of the question, and that I

have drawn the character of the claimant from recent history, and from

facts well within the recollection of all.

Mr. Gladstone in his speech in Edinburgh on Friday recommended himself

to the country in the name of Almighty God.

Others cannot and will not emulate such audacious profanity; but I do

dare, in soliciting a renewal of your confidence, to recommend the

policy of the Unionist party to you in the name of our common country,

our great Empire, upon whose unity and effective maintenance so largely

depend the freedom, the happiness and the progress of mankind.

I am, Gentlemen, yours obediently,

RANDOLPH S. CHURCHILL.

Committee Room, 26 London Street, Paddington, June 19, 1886.

1892.

_To the Electors of South Paddington._

Gentlemen,--A General Election is immediately before us. I desire again

to solicit the honour of representing South Paddington in the House of

Commons. It is pleasant to me to record my strong appreciation of, and

my abiding gratitude for, the kindness and indulgence which you have

consistently shown me and for the large measure of confidence which

during six years you have accorded me. I most earnestly trust that as

long as I have the good fortune to take part in public life the

connection between us may remain as close and strong as it has ever been

at any former time.