Chapter VII: The Eve Of The Battle. (1879)

Perhaps no man has ever had a mighty influence over his fellows
without having the innate need to dominate, and this need usually
becomes the more imperious in proportion as the complications of
life make Self inseparable from a purpose which is not
selfish.—GEORGE ELIOT.

I

It is interesting to get what light we may on Mr. Gladstone’s frame of mind between his first astounding triumph in Midlothian and the crowning mercy of the general election. In October he had written to his son Henry in India as to the probable date of the dissolution, that the government had in his opinion “to choose between a minor or a less smashing defeat now, or probably a more smashing one after the disclosure and real presentation of their most discreditable finance, which can hardly be delayed beyond the spring.” They had a chance of better trade, but the likelihood also of worse revenue. The great reason against dissolution was that they were in possession, and every day’s delay was another day’s exercise of power. He then proceeds to mention his personal position:—

They are beginning to ask _who_ is to succeed if Beaconsfield is
displaced. Voices are coming up here and there, some of them very
confident, that the people will call for me. Nothing, however, but
a very general, a nearly unanimous, call from the liberals, with
the appearance of a sort of national will, could bring this demand
to a form in which it could or ought to be obeyed. The reasons
against my coming forward are of immense force; those against my
indicating any shadow of desire or willingness to come forward are
conclusive. Nor do I at present see any indication of a state of
things which would bring it about.

(M195) Before leaving Dalmeny at the end of his campaign, Mr. Gladstone wrote a letter to Mr. Bright, a copy of which, along with the reply, and two letters from Lord Wolverton, he left tied up in a separate packet.

_To Mr. Bright._

_Nov. 28, 1879._—You will probably recollect that during your last
visit to Hawarden you suggested to me in a walk the expectation or
the possibility that when the return of liberals to power seemed
probable, there might be a popular call for my resuming the
leadership of the party, and that I stated to you what I believed,
and you I think admitted, to be the reasons against it. These, if
I remember right, were four, and I attached to them differing
degrees of weight.

The first was that my health and strength would be unequal to the
strain at my time of life.

The second, that the work to be done was so formidable that hardly
any amount of courage availed to look it in the face.

The third, weightier than these, was that a liberal government
under me would be the object from the first of an amount and kind
of hostility, such as materially to prejudice its acts and weaken
or, in given circumstances, neutralise its power for good.

The fourth, that I was absolutely precluded under present
circumstances, being bound by the clearest considerations of
honour and duty to render a loyal allegiance to Granville as
leader of the party, and to Hartington as leader in the Commons,
and was entirely disabled from so much as entertaining any
proposition that could directly or indirectly tend to their
displacement.

There is a fifth consideration that now presses me, of which the
grounds had hardly emerged in regard to myself personally at the
time when we conversed together. Nothing could be so painful, I
may almost say so odious to me, as to force myself, or to be
forced, upon the Queen, under circumstances where the choice of
another from the ranks of the same party would save her from being
placed in a difficulty of that peculiar kind. This, it may be
said, belongs to the same category as my first and second
objections; but there it is.

The enthusiasm of Scotland is something wonderful. As to the
county of Midlothian, I doubt whether the well-informed tories
themselves in the least expect to win. We go to Taymouth on
Monday. I hope you are well and hearty and see cause to be
contented with the progress of opinion. The more I think about the
matter, the more strange and mysterious does it seem to me that
any party in this free nation should be found to sanction and
uphold policy and proceedings like those of the last two years in
particular. I have written this because I am desirous you should
have clearly before you the matter of my conversation with you,
and the means of verifying it.

_Mr. Bright to Mr. Gladstone._

_Rochdale, Dec. 12, 1879._—Perhaps I ought to have written to you
sooner to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 28th ult.,
but I preferred to let you get home before I wrote, and I was in
truth rather puzzled as to what I ought to say.

You, with sufficient accuracy, describe the purport of your
remarks during our conversation when I was with you a year ago. I
saw the difficulty, then in the future, now perhaps near upon us.
But it is one in which nothing can be done, and “a masterly
inactivity” seems the only wise course. If a break-up of the
present concern comes, the Queen will be advised to send, for
Granville or Hartington. The one sent for will accept and attempt
to form a government, or he may have grave doubts, and say that
you are the only man, etc.; he will consult the other, and will
consult you. Meantime there may be a “pronouncement” on the part
of the people, through the press and public meetings, which will
have a sudden effect on negotiations and on the views of the
Queen, and may decide the question. If such a time should come,
then you will have to say what is possible, and I hope you will be
able to decide rightly, and with reference solely to the interests
of the country and the service you owe to the crown as
representing the nation. You will act with a most strict honour to
Granville and Hartington, as I believe they will act to you. If,
as I hope for and believe, no selfish ambition will come in to
make mischief, the question will be determined in such a manner as
to content all honest men, and what is best for all will be done.
I am often asked as to the future. I reply only so as to say
nothing to add to the evident difficulty of the situation.

Your Scotch expedition has been one of discovery and of conquest.
The tory press and partizans are evidently astonished at it. The
government speakers have no new defence, and they want the past to
be forgotten. Mr. Smith, first lord, I see, entirely rejoices in
what has been done in South Africa, though “a few lives” have been
lost by it. This official life seems sorely to demoralise some
homely and decent people. I am fairly well so far during the
winter, but I seem feeble when I compare myself with your activity
and power.... We are to have meetings in Birmingham during
January. I should prefer the quiet of obscurity to these meetings.
I hope Mrs. Gladstone and your daughter have enjoyed their Scotch
trip and are well after it.

Five days later came Lord Wolverton’s report of the state of feeling on these delicate topics in high places in London. He had seen Lord Granville on the evening of the 16th:—

To most affectionate inquiries as to your health and powers, I
gave a most satisfactory account, and the conversation then went
to the question as to the effect which your recent triumphant
progress in Midlothian and the North had produced upon your mind.
I frankly said that you had in my opinion not anticipated such a
marked expression of public feeling, and that it had doubtless
tended to lead your mind to the consideration of the position of
the party, and to the fact that public opinion might call upon you
to an extent which no one could have looked for. I then (with
anxiety to convey what I know to be your desire) most earnestly
impressed upon Lord Granville that you had upon every occasion
when the subject was alluded to, prefaced all you had to say with
the strongest expressions of loyalty to Hartington and himself.
That I felt convinced that nothing would induce you to encourage,
or to even listen to, any attempt which others might make to
disturb the existing state of things as to the leadership, unless
the wish was very clearly expressed to you by Hartington and
himself, and you would demand full proof that their interests and
that of the party strongly pointed to the reconsideration of your
own position. I need hardly say that, though I felt it my duty to
take care that I did not understate your feelings, it was not
necessary to reassure Granville upon that point.

The conversation then went to the state of the party and its
present position. I learnt that a private meeting had been held at
Devonshire House in the morning. I believe Hartington, Granville,
Cardwell, Adam, and Harcourt were present. My _impression_ is that
the advice Adam gave as to the elections, was that “union in the
party at this moment would not be promoted by a change of front.”
I do not mean to say that the question of leadership was _actually
discussed_, but I _suspect_ the conversation turned somewhat upon
the point which you place “_third_” in your letter to Bright. To
sum it all up, I do not think you will at present be troubled by
any application to you from Granville and Hartington.(361)

The third point in the letter to Mr. Bright was the question whether a liberal government under Mr. Gladstone would not be exposed to a special degree of hostility, due to the peculiar antagonism that his personality excited. In a later letter (December 20), Wolverton tells Mr. Gladstone that in the conversation of the 16th, “Lord Granville raised the point you made your third in your note to Bright, and that he did converse upon at _some length_, evidently having real fears that many of our weak-kneed ones would feel some alarm if Hartington went from the front _now_, and that the tories would intensify this to the uttermost. I think this was all.” Another sentence indicates Lord Wolverton’s own view:—

Lord Granville is not sanguine as to the future. As you know, he
is always inclined to “temporise”; this is his line now, and he is
perhaps right. You know my fear was that without your name in
front, the battle at the election would be fought at a great
disadvantage. But I see the immense difficulty of a change of
front _now_, even if they desired it and you consented to it. This
you also feel, I know.

To all this Mr. Gladstone replied to Wolverton as follows:—

_Hawarden, December 18, 1879._—I thank you much for your letter.
What you report yourself to have said is quite satisfactory to me.
If Granville said more than you had mentioned, anything that fell
from him would be acceptable to me. When I saw your envelope, I
felt a dread lest the contents should be more substantive; a
relief came on reading them. But these communications are useful,
as they give distinctness to ideas, and through ideas to
intentions. I may state mine as follows: 1. My ears are shut
against all the world, except it were Granville and Hartington. 2.
And even to them unless they spoke together, and in clear and
decisive language. 3. They are the judges whether to speak, as
well as when to speak. But as an individual, I am of opinion that
there is not a case for their speaking _now_. 4. Were they to
speak now, and as I have defined above, I should then say let us
have nothing more than a formula, and let the substance of it be
that by the nature of things no man in my position could make
beforehand an absolute renunciation, and that the leadership in
the next parliament must, like everything else, be considered in
connection with what may appear at the dissolution to be the sense
of the country, but that my action individually has been and will
continue to be that of a follower of Lord Granville and Lord
Hartington. One thing I would ask of you as a fast friend. If you
think that in anything I fall short by omission or commission of
perfect loyalty as a member of the party, I beg you to tell me.

II

As usual with him, these grave political preoccupations were not engrossing, but only a part of the day’s task. He carried on a pretty profuse correspondence, he worked hard on his favourite diversion of arranging books and papers, he gave much thought and time to estate matters with his eldest son, with him too he felled now a chestnut, now a sycamore; he corrected the proofs of his speeches and wrote an article for Mr. Knowles; he read books and articles about Eleusis, and the Hebrew migration from Egypt, and the Olympian system, and Newman on the Eirenicon, and Westcott on St. John, and somebody else upon St. Thomas Aquinas. For two or three days he was partially disabled by “a low face-ache: the reaction after heavy pressure, under which I received from the mercy of God such remarkable support.” In the middle of January alarming accounts came from his sister Helen, who lay dying at Cologne. Thither he sped with his eldest brother and his sister-in-law. They found life fast ebbing, and four days after their arrival the end came, in the midst of pious exercises and affectionate care. They were satisfied that she had been “freely restored to the unity of spirit and the bond of peace,” and had died not in the actual Roman communion. A few days after his return home he records: “Wrote a long memorandum of the evidence in regard to dear Helen’s religious profession.” The remains they bore to Fasque, and by the end of the month he was again at Hawarden, once more at work with his eldest son upon the “accumulated disorder,” and the rest of the round of his familiar employments. Among other things he read Cowper’s _Task_—“the fifth book very noble in its moral strain”; and another entry will interest many,—“_Feb. 15._—Read the biography of noble Dora Pattison. How by reflex action it stings.... Yet even to her (like Bishop Butler), death was terrible.” “He was haunted,” he writes, “with recollections of Sister Dora.” Then after a Sunday passed in church exercises, and “skimming many theological books,” on February 23 he “left Hawarden with a heavy heart.”

He quickly found himself in the London whirlpool, attending conclaves of his political friends, dining out, seeing Irving in the _Merchant of Venice_ (“his best, I think”), speaking once or twice in the House, and twice at London meetings in St. Pancras and Marylebone, where the popular enthusiasm made even his most hardened critics begin to suspect that the tide had really turned since the days when the Londoners mobbed him in the street and broke his windows.