Chapter V: A Tumultuous Year. (1878)

On these great questions, which cut so deep into heart and mind,
the importance of taking what they think the best course for the
question will often seem, even to those who have the most just
sense of party obligation, a higher duty than that of party
allegiance.—GLADSTONE (_to Granville_, 1878).

I

Of 1878 Mr. Gladstone spoke as “a tumultuous year.” In January, after a fierce struggle of five months in the Balkan passes, the Russian forces overcame the Turkish defence, and by the end of January had entered Adrianople and reached the Sea of Marmora. Here at San Stefano a treaty of peace was made at the beginning of March. The last word of the eastern question, as Lord Derby said in those days, is this: Who is to have Constantinople? No great Power would be willing to see it in the hands of any other great Power, no small Power could hold it at all, and as for joint occupation, all such expedients were both dangerous and doubtful.(348) This last word now seemed to be writing itself in capital letters. Russia sent the treaty to the Powers, with the admission that portions of it affecting the general interests of Europe could not be regarded as definitive without general concurrence. A treaty between Russian and Turk within the zone of Constantinople and almost in sight of St. Sophia, opened a new and startling vista to English politicians. Powerful journalists, supposed to be much in the confidence of ministers, declared that if peace were ultimately concluded on anything like the terms proposed, then beyond all doubt the outworks of our empire were gone, and speedy ruin must begin. About such a situation there had been but one opinion among our statesmen for many generations. Until Mr. Gladstone, “all men held that such a state of things [as the Russians at Constantinople] would bring the British empire face to face with ruin.”(349)

(M185) Before the treaty of San Stefano, an angry panic broke out in parts of England. None of the stated terms of British neutrality were violated either by the treaty or its preliminaries, but even when no Russian force was within forty miles of Constantinople, the cabinet asked for a vote of six millions (January), and a few days later the British fleet passed the Dardanelles. Two years earlier, Mr. Gladstone had wished that the fleet should go to Constantinople as a coercive demonstration against the Porte; now, in 1878, the despatch of the fleet was a demonstration against Russia, who had done alone the work of emancipation that in Mr. Gladstone’s view should have been done, and might have been done without war by that concert of the Powers from which England had drawn back. The concert of the Powers that our withdrawal had paralysed would have revived quickly enough, if either Austria or Germany had believed that the Czar really meant to seize Constantinople. “I have done my best,” wrote Mr. Gladstone to a friend, “against the vote of six millions; a foolish and mischievous proposition. The liberal leaders have, mistakenly as I think, shrunk at the last moment from voting. But my opinion is that the liberal party in general are firmly opposed to the vote as a silly, misleading, and mischievous measure.” He both spoke and voted. The opinion of his adherents was that his words, notwithstanding his vote, were calculated to do more to throw oil on the troubled waters, than either the words or the abstention of the official leader.

The appearance of the British fleet with the nominal object of protecting life and property at Constantinople, was immediately followed by the advance of Russian troops thirty miles nearer to Constantinople with the same laudable object. The London cabinet only grew the wilder in its Projects, among them being a secret expedition of Indian troops to seize Cyprus and Alexandretta, with the idea that it would be fairer to the Turk not to ask his leave. Two ministers resigned in succession, rather than follow Lord Beaconsfield further in designs of this species.(350)

“It is a bitter disappointment,” Mr. Gladstone wrote to Madame Novikoff, “to find the conclusion of one war, for which there was a weighty cause, followed by the threat of another, for which there is no adequate cause at all, and which will be an act of utter wickedness—if it comes to pass, which God forbid—on one side or on both. That unhappy subject of the bit of Bessarabia,(351) on which I have given you my mind with great freedom (for otherwise what is the use of my writing at all?) threatens to be in part the pretext and in part the cause of enormous mischief, and in my opinion to mar and taint at a particular point the immense glory which Russia had acquired, already complete in a military sense, and waiting to be consummated in a moral sense too.”

Public men do not withstand war fevers without discomfort, as Bright had found in the streets of Manchester when he condemned the Crimean war. One or two odious and unusual incidents now happened to Mr. Gladstone:—

_Feb. 24._—Between four and six, three parties of the populace
arrived here, the first with cheers, the two others hostile.
Windows were broken and much hooting. The last detachment was only
kept away by mounted police in line across the street both ways.
This is not very sabbatical. There is strange work behind the
curtain, if one could only get at it. The instigators are those
really guilty; no one can wonder at the tools.

One Sunday afternoon a little later (March 4):—

Another gathering of people was held off by the police. I walked
down with C., and as a large crowd gathered, though in the main
friendly, we went into Dr. Clark’s, and then in a hansom off the
ground.

Stories were put about that Lord Beaconsfield reported the names of dissentient colleagues to the Queen. Dining with Sir Robert Phillimore (Jan. 17), Mr. Gladstone—

was emphatic and decided in his opinion that if the premier
mentioned to the Queen any of his colleagues who had opposed him
in the cabinet, he was guilty of great baseness and perfidy.
Gladstone said he had copies of 250 letters written by him to the
Queen, in none of which could a reference be found to the opinion
of his colleagues expressed in cabinet.

On the same occasion, by the way, Sir Robert notes: “Gladstone was careful to restrain the expression of his private feelings about Lord Beaconsfield, as he generally is.”

II

(M186) In the summer the famous congress assembled at Berlin (June 13 to July 13), with Lord Beaconsfield and Lord Salisbury as the representatives of Great Britain, to sanction, reject, or modify the treaty of San Stefano. Before the congress met, the country received a shock that made men stagger. While in London it was impossible to attempt to hold a meeting in favour of peace, and even in the northern towns such meetings were almost at the mercy of anybody who might choose to start a jingo chorus; while the war party exulted in the thought that military preparations were going on apace, and that the bear would soon be rent by the lion; a document was one afternoon betrayed to the public, from which the astounding fact appeared that England and Russia had already entered into a secret agreement, by which the treaty of San Stefano was in substance to be ratified, with the single essential exception that the southern portion of Bulgaria was to be severed from the northern. The treaty of Berlin became in fact an extensive partition of the Turkish empire, and the virtual ratification of the policy of bag and baggage. The Schouvaloff memorandum was not the only surprise. Besides the secret agreement with Russia, the British government had made a secret convention with Turkey. By this convention England undertook to defend Turkey against Russian aggression in Asia, though concessions were made to Russia that rendered Asiatic Turkey indefensible; and Turkey was to carry out reforms which all sensible men knew to be wholly beyond her power. In payment for this bargain, the Sultan allowed England to occupy and administer Cyprus.

At the end of the session Mr. Gladstone wound up his labours in parliament with an extraordinarily powerful survey of all these great transactions. Its range, compass, and grasp are only matched by the simplicity and lucidity of his penetrating examination. It was on July 30:—

Finished the protocols and worked up the whole subject. It loomed
very large and disturbed my sleep unusually. H. of C. Spoke 2-½
hours. I was in body much below par, but put on the steam
perforce. It ought to have been far better. The speech exhausted
me a good deal, as I was and am below par.

He sketched, in terse outline, the results of the treaty—the independence of Roumania, Servia, and Montenegro; the virtual independence of northern Bulgaria; the creation in southern Bulgaria (under the name of Eastern Roumelia) of local autonomy, which must soon grow into something more. Bosnia and Herzegovina, though Mr. Gladstone would have hoped for their freedom from external control, had been handed over to Austria, but they were at any rate free from the Ottoman. The cardinal fact was that eleven millions of people formerly under Turkish rule, absolute or modified, were entirely exempted from the yoke. “Taking the whole of the provisions of the treaty of Berlin together, I most thankfully and joyfully acknowledge that great results have been achieved in the diminution of human misery and towards the establishment of human happiness and prosperity in the East.” A great work of emancipation had been achieved for the Slavs of the Turkish empire. He deplored that equal regard had not been paid to the case of the Hellenes in Thessaly and Epirus, though even in 1862, Palmerston and Russell were in favour of procuring the cession of Thessaly and Epirus to Greece. As for the baffling of Russian intrigue, it was true that the Bulgaria of Berlin was reduced from the Bulgaria of San Stefano, but this only furnished new incentives and new occasions for intrigue.(352) Macedonia and Armenia were left over.

(M187) On the conduct of the two British plenipotentiaries at Berlin he spoke without undue heat, but with a weight that impressed even adverse hearers:—

I say, sir, that in this congress of the great Powers, the voice
of England has not been heard in unison with the institutions, the
history, and the character of England. On every question that
arose, and that became a subject of serious contest in the
congress, or that could lead to any important practical result, a
voice has been heard from Lord Beaconsfield and Lord Salisbury
which sounded in the tones of Metternich, and not in the tones of
Mr. Canning, or of Lord Palmerston, or of Lord Russell. I do not
mean that the British government ought to have gone to the
congress determined to insist upon the unqualified prevalence of
what I may call British ideas. They were bound to act in
consonance with the general views of Europe. But within the limits
of fair differences of opinion, which will always be found to
arise on such occasions, I do affirm that it was their part to
take the side of liberty; and I do also affirm that as a matter of
fact they took the side of servitude.

The agreement with Russia had in truth constantly tied their hands. For instance, Lord Beaconsfield and Lord Salisbury might make to Russia as many eloquent speeches as they liked against the restoration of Bessarabia, but everybody in the room knew that the British government had taken the lead in virtually assuring Russia that she had only to hold to her point and Bessarabia should again be hers. Most effective of all was his exposure of the convention with Turkey, a proceeding by which we had undertaken, behind the back of Europe and against the treaty of Paris, to establish a sole protectorate in Asiatic Turkey.(353) We had made a contract of such impossible scope as to bind us to manage the reform of the judicature, the police, the finances, the civil service of Turkey, and the stoppage of the sources of corruption at Constantinople. The load, if we took it seriously, was tremendous; if we did not take it seriously, then what was the whole story of the reform of Asiatic Turkey, but a blind to excuse the acquisition of Cyprus? This great presentation of a broad and reasoned case contained a passage near its close, that had in it the kernel of Mr. Gladstone’s policy in the whole controversy that was now drawing to an end:—

I think we have lost greatly by the conclusion of this convention;
I think we have lost very greatly indeed the sympathy and respect
of the nations of Europe. I do not expect or believe that we shall
fall into that sort of contempt which follows upon weakness. I
think it to be one of the most threadbare of all the weapons of
party warfare when we hear, as we sometimes hear, on the accession
of a new government, that before its accession the government of
England had been despised all over the world, and that now on the
contrary she has risen in the general estimation, and holds her
proper place in the councils of nations. This England of ours is
not so poor and so weak a thing as to depend upon the reputation
of this or that administration; and the world knows pretty well of
what stuff she is made.... Now, I am desirous that the standard of
our material strength shall be highly and justly estimated by the
other nations of Christendom; but I believe it to be of still more
vital consequence that we should stand high in their estimation as
the lovers of truth, of honour, and of openness in all our
proceedings, as those who know how to cast aside the motives of a
narrow selfishness, and give scope to considerations of broad and
lofty principle. I value our insular position, but I dread the day
when we shall be reduced to a moral insularity.... The proceedings
have all along been associated with a profession as to certain
British interests, which although I believe them to be perfectly
fictitious and imaginary, have yet been pursued with as much zeal
and eagerness as if they had been the most vital realities in the
world. This setting up of our own interests, out of place, in an
exaggerated form, beyond their proper sphere, and not merely the
setting up of such interests, but the mode in which they have been
pursued, has greatly diminished, not, as I have said, the regard
for our material strength, but the estimation of our moral
standard of action, and consequently our moral position in the
world.

(M188) Lord Beaconsfield lost some of his composure when Mr. Gladstone called the agreement between England and Turkey an insane convention. “I would put this issue,” he said, “to an intelligent English jury: Which do you believe most likely to enter into an insane convention? A body of English gentlemen, honoured by the favour of their sovereign and the confidence of their fellow-subjects, managing your affairs for five years—I hope with prudence, and not altogether without success—or a sophistical rhetorician, inebriated with the exuberance of his own verbosity,”(354)—and so forth, in a strain of unusual commonness, little befitting either Disraeli’s genius or his dignity. Mr. Gladstone’s speech three days later was as free from all the excesses so violently described, as any speech that was ever made at Westminster.

No speech, however, at this moment was able to reduce the general popularity of ministers, and it was the common talk at the moment that if Lord Beaconsfield had only chosen to dissolve, his majority would have been safe. Writing an article on “England’s Mission” as soon as the House was up, Mr. Gladstone grappled energetically with some of the impressions on which this popularity was founded. The _Pall Mall Gazette_ had set out these impressions with its usual vigour. As Mr. Gladstone’s reply traverses much of the ground on which we have been treading, I may as well transcribe it:—

The liberals, according to that ably written newspaper, have now
imbibed as a permanent sentiment a “distaste for national
greatness.” This distaste is now grown into matter of principle.
“The disgust at these principles of action ever grew in depth and
extent,” so that in the Danish, the American, and the
Franco-German wars, there was “an increasing portion of the nation
ready to engage in the struggle on almost any side,” as a protest
against the position that it was bound not to engage in it at all!
The climax of the whole matter was reached when the result of the
Alabama treaty displayed to the world an England overreached,
overruled, and apologetic. It certainly requires the astounding
suppositions, and the gross ignorance of facts, which the
journalist with much truth recites, to explain the manner in which
for some time past pure rhodomontade has not only done the work of
reasoning, but has been accepted as a cover for constant
miscarriage and defeat; and doctrines of national self-interest
and self-assertion as supreme laws have been set up, which, if
unhappily they harden into “permanent sentiment” and “matter of
principle,” will destroy all the rising hopes of a true public law
for Christendom, and will substitute for it what is no better than
the Communism of Paris enlarged and exalted into a guide of
international relations. It is perhaps unreasonable to expect that
minds in the condition of the “increasing portion” should on any
terms accept an appeal to history. But, for the sake of others,
not yet so completely emancipated from the yoke of facts, I simply
ask at what date it was that the liberal administrations of this
country adopted the “permanent sentiment” and the “matter of
principle” which have been their ruin? Not in 1859-60, when they
energetically supported the redemption and union of Italy. Not in
1861, when, on the occurrence of the Trent affair, they at a few
days’ notice despatched ten thousand men to Halifax. Not when, in
concert with Europe, they compelled the sultan to cut off the head
of his tyrannical pasha, and to establish a government in the
Lebanon not dependent for its vital breath on Constantinople. Not
when in 1863 they invited France to join in an _ultimatum_ to the
German Powers, and to defend Denmark with us against the intrigues
which Germany was carrying on under the plea of the Duke of
Augustenburg’s title to the Duchies; and when they were told by
Louis Napoleon in reply that that might be a great British
interest, but that it had no significance for France. Not when in
1870 they formed in a few days their double treaty for the defence
of Belgium. Does, then, the whole indictment rest on this—that, in
conformity with the solemn declaration of the European Powers at
Paris in 1856, they cured a deep-seated quarrel with America by
submitting to the risk of a very unjust award at Geneva; and
reconciled a sister nation, and effected a real forward step in
the march, of civilisation at about half the cost which the
present administration has recently incurred (but without paying
it) in agitating and disturbing Europe? Or is it that during all
those years, and many more years before them, while liberty and
public law were supported, and British honour vindicated,
territorial cupidity was not inflamed by the deeds or words of
statesmen, British interests were not set up as “the first and
great commandment,” and it was thought better to consolidate a
still undeveloped empire, which might well satisfy every ambition,
as it assuredly taxes to the utmost every faculty.

III

(M189) Though this was a “tumultuous year,” he noted with some complacency that the work of his pen produced a thousand pounds. He laboured hard at his Homeric primer, “just contriving to squeeze the completion of it into the Easter recess”; wrote articles on the “Peace to Come,” on the “Paths of Honour and of Shame,” on the Abbé Martin, on “England’s Mission,” on “Electoral Statistics,” the “Friends and Foes of Russia,” and other matters. He finished a paper on Iris, “a charming little subject, and for once I am a little pleased with my work.” He toiled diligently at a collection of old articles, which he christened _Gleanings_:—

_November 14._—Worked on articles for reprint. Reperusal of
Patteson moves me unto tears.(355) What a height he reached! What
he did for God and the church. Praise to the Highest in the
height! 21.—This morning the rain on the trees was wonderful and
lovely. When it fell under the trees in the afternoon it was like
snow or small icicles an inch deep. 25.—Read _Maud_ once more,
and, aided by Doyle’s criticism, wrote my note of apology and
partial retractation.(356) The fact is I am wanting in that higher
poetical sense, which distinguishes the true artist.

Again and again he gives himself the delightful refreshment of arranging his books. He finds that he has 700 volumes of English poetry. “After 30 hours my library is now in a passable state, and I enjoy, in Ruskin’s words, ‘the complacency of possession and the pleasantness of order.’ ” He sat to Millais in the summer for what was to be the most popular of his portraits. “_July 5._—Went with C. to examine the Millais portrait, surely a very fine work. 6—Sat once more to Millais, whose ardour and energy about his picture inspire a strong sympathy.” On Good Friday he hears Bach’s passion music, “most beautiful, yet not what I like for to-day.” In the afternoon: “We drove down to Pembroke Lodge. For a few minutes saw Lord Russell at his desire—a noble wreck. He recognised us and overflowed with feeling.”

In December the Argylls and Mr. Ruskin came to Hawarden:—

_Dec. 12._—Mr. Ruskin’s health better, and no diminution of charm.
14.—Mr. Ruskin at dinner developed his political opinions. They
aim at the restoration of the Judaic system, and exhibit a mixture
of virtuous absolutism and Christian socialism. All in his
charming and modest manner.

From a pleasing account of Ruskin at Hawarden privately printed, we may take one passage:—

Something like a little amicable duel took place at one time
between Ruskin and Mr. G., when Ruskin directly attacked his host
as a “leveller.” “You see _you_ think one man is as good as
another and all men equally competent to judge aright on political
questions; whereas I am a believer in an aristocracy.” And
straight came the answer from Mr. Gladstone, “Oh dear, no! I am
nothing of the sort. I am a firm believer in the aristocratic
principle—the rule of the best. I am an out-and-out
_inequalitarian_,” a confession which Ruskin treated with intense
delight, clapping his hands triumphantly.

The true question against Ruskin’s and Carlyle’s school was how you are to get the rule of the best. Mr. Gladstone thought that freedom was the answer; what path the others would have us tread, neither Ruskin nor his stormy teacher ever intelligibly told us.

IV

Writing on November 1 to Madame Novikoff, Mr. Gladstone said:—

_Nov. 1, ’78._—My opinion is that this government is moving to its
doom, and I hope the day of Lord Granville’s succession to it may
be within a twelvemonth. It is not to be desired that this should
take place at once. The people want a little more experience of
Beaconsfield toryism.

Unfortunately this experience, whatever be the precise name for it, now came with disastrous promptitude, and the nation having narrowly escaped one war, found itself involved in two. The peril of a conflict in Europe had hardly passed, before the country found itself committed to an attack for which the government themselves censured their high-handed agent, upon the fiercest of the savage tribes of South Africa. A more formidable surprise was the announcement that, by a headlong reversal of accepted Indian policy, war had been declared against the Ameer of Afghanistan.