MY POLITICAL ADVENTURES
Central Edinburgh--A Knock-out--The Border Burghs--Tariff
Reform--Heckling--Interpolations--Defeat--Reflections.
I have twice stood for Parliament, though if anyone were to ask me my
real reasons for doing so I should find it difficult to give them an
intelligible answer. It certainly was from no burning desire to join
that august assembly, for in each case I deliberately contested seats
which every expert considered to be impossible, and though on one
occasion I very nearly proved the experts to be wrong, my action is
none the less a sign that I had no great wish to be at the head of the
poll, for other and easier seats had been offered me. In the case of
Central Edinburgh, for which I stood in the 1900 election, there may
have been some sentimental call, for it was the section of the city
where I was educated and where much of my boyhood was spent. It was
said to be the premier Radical stronghold of Scotland, and to carry
it would be a fine exploit, for though I was a good deal of a Radical
myself in many ways, I knew that it would be a national disgrace and
possibly an imperial disaster if we did not carry the Boer War to
complete success, and that was the real issue before the electors.
I believe that Providence one way or another gets a man’s full powers
out of him, but that it is essential that the man himself should
co-operate to the extent of putting himself in the way of achievement.
Give yourself the chance always. If it is so fated, you will win
through. If your path lies elsewhere, then you have got your sign
through your failure. But do not put yourself in the position later in
life of looking back and saying, “Perhaps I might have had a career
there had I tried.” Deep in my bones I felt that I was on earth for
some big purpose, and it was only by trying that I could tell that the
purpose was not political, though I could never imagine myself as
fettered to a party or as thinking that all virtues lay with one set of
men.
My political work was not wasted. I stood in the two most heckling
constituencies in Scotland, and through that odious and much-abused
custom I gained a coolness on the platform and a disregard for
interruption and clamour, which have stood me in good stead since.
Indeed, I hold that it was to fashion me more perfectly for my ultimate
work that I was twice passed through this furnace. I remember that
once at Hawick my soldier brother came to see how I was getting on,
and was struck by the effect which I had upon my audience. “It would
be strange, Arthur,” said he, “if your real career should prove to
be political and not literary.” “It will be neither. It will be
religious,” said I. Then we looked at each other in surprise and both
burst out laughing. The answer seemed quite absurd and pointless,
for no remote possibility of such a thing suggested itself. It was a
curious example of that unconscious power of prophecy which is latent
within us.
I had hardly landed from South Africa when I flung myself into
the Edinburgh contest. Mr. Cranston, later Sir Robert Cranston, a
well-known citizen, was my chairman. When I arrived a small meeting
was held, and I, a weary man, listened while it was gravely debated,
with much weighing of pros and cons, what my view was to be on each of
the vital questions. Finally it was all settled to their satisfaction
and written down, preparatory to forming the election address. I
had listened with some amusement, and when it was all over I said:
“Gentlemen, may I ask who is going to honour these promises that you
are making?” “Why, you, of course,” said they. “Then I think it would
be better if I made them,” said I, and, crumpling up their document,
I picked up a pen and wrote out my own views and my own address. It
was well received and would have won the election against enormous
odds--some thousands of votes at the last trial--were it not for a very
unexpected intervention.
Those who remember the election will bear me out that it was an
exciting affair. My opponent was a Mr. Brown, a member of Nelson’s
publishing firm, which had large works in the constituency. I was fresh
from the scene of war and overflowing with zeal to help the army, so
I spared myself in no way. I spoke from barrels in the street or any
other pedestal I could find, holding many wayside meetings besides my
big meetings in the evening, which were always crowded and uproarious.
There was nothing which I could have done and did not do. My opponent
was not formidable, but I had against me an overwhelming party
machine with its registered lists, and record of unbroken victory.
It was no light matter to change the vote of a Scotsman, and many
of them would as soon think of changing their religion. One serious
mischance occurred. I was determined to do and say nothing which I
did not heartily mean, and this united Ireland, North and South, for
the first time in history. The Irish vote was considerable, so that
this was important. The South quarrelled with me because, though I
favoured some devolution, I was not yet converted to Home Rule. The
North was angry because I was in favour of a Catholic University for
Dublin. So I had no votes from Ireland. When I went down to hold a
meeting in a hall in the Cowgate, which is the Irish quarter, I was
told that it had been arranged to break my platform up. This seems
to have been true, but fortunately I got on good human terms with my
audience, and indeed moved some of them to tears, by telling them of
the meeting between the two battalions of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers
at Ladysmith. So it happened that when a sinister-looking figure, a
local horse-slaughterer, appeared on the edge of the stage, he was
received in silence. He moved slowly across and said something about
free speech. I felt that if I or my people were violent there would be
a riot, so I simply said: “Trot along, sonny, trot along!” He did trot
along and disappeared on the other side of the stage. After the transit
of this sinister star, and my temporary eclipse, all went well to the
end.
As the day of the election approached, it became more and more evident
that I was getting dangerous, but I was knocked out--fortunately for
myself, as I now discern--by a curious interference. There was an
Evangelical fanatic named Plimmer living at Dunfermline who thought it
his special mission in life to keep Roman Catholic candidates out of
Parliament. Therefore at the eleventh hour, the very night before the
voting, the whole district was placarded with big sheets to say that
I was a Roman Catholic, that I had been educated by Jesuits, and in
fact that my whole candidature was an attack upon Kirk and Covenant and
Lesser Catechism and everything dear to the Scottish heart. It was very
cleverly done, and of course this fanatic alone could not have paid
the expenses, though I cannot believe that Mr. Brown knew anything of
the matter. My unhappy supporters saw crowds of workmen reading these
absurd placards and calling out, “I’ve done with him!” As it was I very
narrowly missed the seat, being only beaten by a few hundred votes.
The question of an appeal came along, but the thing was so clever that
it really was difficult to handle, since it was true enough that I had
been educated by Jesuits and yet absurdly untrue that this education
influenced my present frame of mind. Therefore we had to leave it alone.
Looking back, I am inclined to look upon Mr. Plimmer as one of the
great benefactors of my life. He altered the points at the last moment
and prevented me from being shunted on to a side-line which would
perhaps have taken me to a dead end. I could never have been a party
man, and there seems no place under our system for anyone else. At the
moment I was a little sore, and I wrote a letter to the “Scotsman”
which defined my religious position as it was then, and caused, I
believe, no little comment. I had the following letter from Sir John
Boraston, who was the party organizer. The first sentence refers to the
possibility of lodging a legal protest.
6 GREAT GEORGE STREET,
WESTMINSTER,
LONDON, S.W.
_October 18, 1900._
DEAR DR. DOYLE,--
Probably your Edinburgh advisers are right, but it is undoubtedly a
misfortune that the perpetrators of attacks such as that which was
made upon you should be allowed to go unpunished.
Your fight was indeed a phenomenal one, and you have the consolation
of knowing that if you did not actually win a seat for yourself, you
did materially contribute to the Liberal Unionist victories in two
other Edinburgh constituencies--this is generally admitted.
I am sure you will feel that your first entry into active political
life promises a full measure of success at no distant date, and I hope
I may see you again before long to talk matters over.
Yours very truly,
(_Sgd._) JOHN BORASTON.
I had no further urge to try political adventures, but when the
Tariff Reform election of 1905 came round I felt that I should make
some sacrifice for the faith that was in me. Mr. “Tommy” Shaw, as he
was called--now Lord Shaw--was one of the most energetic Radicals in
Scotland, and was reputed to be most firmly established in his seat,
which was called “The Border Burghs,” consisting of the small towns
of Hawick, Galashiels and Selkirk, all of them engaged in the woollen
trade, and all of them hard hit by German competition. It seemed to me
that if there was a good field anywhere for Mr. Joseph Chamberlain’s
views on a protective tariff it should be there, where an open market
had caused such distress and loss. My reasoning was sound enough,
but I had not reckoned upon the innate conservatism of the Scottish
character, which cannot readjust its general principles to meet the
particular case--a noble trait, but occasionally an unpractical one.
Party politics are not a divine law, but simply a means to an end,
which must adjust itself as the end varies.
This time I really expended a good deal of work as well as money upon
the attempt, for if you stand for others besides yourself you have no
choice but to work up to the last pound of steam. I might have added
my neck to the other things which I risked, for in an endeavour to
get into comradeship with the people I joined in what is known as the
“common-riding” at Hawick, where a general holiday is proclaimed while
the bounds of the common are ridden over and defined. Part of the
proceedings was that each mounted man had to gallop full-split down the
high road over a measured course of half a mile or so, the burghers
lining the way and helping one by waving sticks and umbrellas. I was
mounted on a hunter which I had never seen before, and which was full
of spirit. Fortunately this monstrous road performance came off late
in the afternoon, and I had taken some of the spirit out of him by our
ride round the common. I do not profess to be a great horseman, and I
certainly nearly made the acquaintance of the Hawick turnpike. Sooner
or later some one will be killed at that game, and horses must be lamed
every year. Afterwards an interminable ballad was recited with a sort
of jingling chorus to which all who are near the reciter keep time
with their feet. As it would seem unsympathetic not to join in, I also
kept time with the rhythm, and was amused and amazed when I got back
to London to see in the papers that I had danced a hornpipe in public
before the electors. Altogether I had no desire to face another Hawick
common-riding.
The trouble in dealing with a three-town constituency, each town very
jealous of the others, is that whatever you do has to be done thrice
or you give offence. I was therefore heartily sick of the preparation
and only too pleased when the actual election came off. I thought then,
and I think now, that a sliding tariff, if only as an instrument for
bargaining, would be altogether to our interest in this country, and
would possibly cause some of our rivals to cease closing their markets
to us, while they freely use the open market which we present. I still
think that Chamberlain’s whole scheme was an admirable one, and that
it was defeated by a campaign of misrepresentation and actual lying,
in which Chinese labour and dear food played a chief part. I stood
among the ruins of a dismantled factory in the Border Burghs and I
showed how it had been destroyed by German competition, and how while
we let their goods in free they were levying taxes on ours and spending
the money so gained upon warships with which we might some day have
to reckon. The answer to my arguments consisted largely of coloured
cartoons of Chinamen working in chains in the mines of the Transvaal,
and other nonsense of the sort. I worked very hard, so hard that on the
last night of the election I addressed meetings in each of the three
towns, which, as they are separated by many miles of hilly roads, is
a feat never done, I understand, before or since. However, it was of
no avail and I was beaten, though I believe I am right in saying that
the party showed a less decrease of votes than in any constituency in
Scotland. The thing which annoyed me most about the election was that
my opponent, Tommy Shaw, only appeared once, so far as I remember, in
the constituency, and did everything by deputy, so that I found myself
like a boxer who is punching his rival’s second instead of himself
all the time. I had the melancholy satisfaction of noting that the
Radical chairman who was so engrossed in the wrongs of Chinamen in the
Transvaal went into liquidation within a few months, giving as his
reason the pressure of foreign competition in the woollen trade.
It is a vile business this electioneering, though no doubt it is
chastening in its effects. They say that mud-baths are healthy
and purifying, and I can compare it to nothing else. This applies
particularly, I think, to Scotland, where the art of heckling has been
carried to extremes. This asking of questions was an excellent thing
so long as it was honest in its desire to know the candidate’s opinion
upon a public measure. But the honest questions are the exception and
the unfortunate man is baited by all sorts of senseless trick questions
from mischievous and irresponsible persons, which are designed to annoy
him and make him seem foolish or ignorant. Some reform is badly needed
in this matter. Often, after a speech of an hour, I had an hour of
questions, one more absurd than another. The press records will show,
I hope, that I held my own, for I knew my subject well, and by this
time I had had a good schooling on the platform. Sometimes I countered
heavily. I remember one robust individual coming down with a carefully
prepared question which he shouted from the back of the hall. I had
been speaking of retaliation in commercial tariffs, and his question
was: “Mister Candidate, how do you reconcile retaliation with the
Sermon on the Mount?” I answered: “We cannot in life always reach the
highest ideals. Have _you_ sold all and given to the poor?” The man was
locally famous as having done nothing of the sort, and there was a howl
of delight at my answer which fairly drove him out of the hall.
There is a peculiar dry Scottish wit which is very effective when you
get it on your side. I remember one solemn person who had a loaf
on the end of a pole which he protruded towards me, as if it were a
death’s-head, from the side box of the theatre in which I spoke. The
implication was, I suppose, that I would raise the price of bread. It
was difficult to ignore the thing and yet puzzling how to meet it, but
one of my people in broad Doric cried: “Tak’ it hame and eat it!” which
quite spoilt the effect. Usually these interpolations are delivered in
a dreamy impersonal sort of voice. When, in talking of the Transvaal
War, I said with some passion, “Who is going to pay for this war?” a
seedy-looking person standing against the side wall said, “I’m no’
carin’!” which made both me and the audience laugh. Again I remember my
speech being quite interrupted by a joke which was lost upon me. I had
spoken of the self-respect and decent attire of American factory hands.
“Gang and look at Broon’s,” said the dreamy voice. I have never yet
learned whether Brown’s factory was famous for tidiness or the reverse,
but the remark convulsed the audience.
The Radicals used to attend my meetings in great numbers, so that
really, I think, they were often hostile audiences which I addressed.
Since their own candidate held hardly any meetings I was the only fun
to be had. Before the meeting the packed house would indulge in cries
and counter-cries with rival songs and slogans, so that as I approached
the building it sounded like feeding-time at the Zoo. My heart often
sank within me as I listened to the uproar, and I would ask myself what
on earth I meant by placing myself in such a position. Once on the
platform, however, my fighting blood warmed up, and I did not quail
before any clamour. It was all a great education for the future, though
I did not realize it at the time, but followed blindly where some
strange inward instinct led me on. What tired me most was the personal
liberties taken by vulgar people, which is a very different thing from
poor people, whom I usually find to be very delicate in their feelings.
I take a liberty with no man, and there is something in me which rises
up in anger if any man takes a liberty with me. A candidate cannot say
all he thinks on this matter, or his party may suffer. I was always on
my guard lest I should give offence in this way, and I well remember
how on one occasion I stood during a three days’ campaign a good many
indignities with exemplary patience. I was on edge, however, and as
luck would have it, at the very last moment, as I stood on the platform
waiting for the London train, one of my own people, an exuberant young
bounder, came up with a loud familiar greeting and squeezed my right
hand until my signet ring nearly cut me. It opened the sluice and out
came a torrent of whaler language which I had hoped that I had long ago
forgotten. The blast seemed to blow him bodily across the platform, and
formed a strange farewell to my supporters.
Thus ended my career in politics. I could say with my friend Kendrick
Bangs: “The electors have returned me--to the bosom of my family.” A
very pleasant constituency it is. I had now thoroughly explored that
path, and had assured myself that my life’s journey did not lie along
it. And yet I was deeply convinced that public service was waiting
for me somewhere. One likes to feel that one has some small practical
influence upon the affairs of one’s time, but I encourage myself by the
thought that though I have not been a public man, yet my utterances in
several pamphlets and numerous letters in the Press, may have had more
weight with the public since I was disassociated from any political
interest which could sway my judgment.