Chapter XIII: Home Rule (2)

Lord Salisbury tells me G.O.M. has no right to prevent you from
making a full explanation of your reasons for quitting H.M.’s
service, and that if you write direct to H.M. and send it by
special messenger he (Lord S.) is pretty certain she will give you
leave, and you can snap your fingers at the G.O.M.

The irresolution and indecision of the Whigs is most baffling. I am
certain Hartington means nothing but what is right and fair towards
you, but you know there are one or two round him who are very
jealous of you. Don’t blame him, and if you see him this evening
before I see you don’t let him think you are riled with him.

We shall have a desperate fight with this artful G.O.M., and
nothing will win but the wisdom of the serpent.

But in the meanwhile Mr. Chamberlain had abandoned all idea of speaking on the first day. The uncertainty as to whether the Bill had been changed or not seemed to him a good reason for delay. His doubts about the Land Bill had, moreover, been removed. ‘Mr. Gladstone,’ he writes (April 7), ‘makes no objection to my referring to the Land scheme; so this difficulty will not arise.’

The debate was marshalled with the utmost care. Lord Randolph feared lest some trifle might make the mutual relations of his two powerful allies more difficult than they were already. He understood how easily vast consequences may in times of strain and emergency arise from personal matters.

_Lord Randolph Churchill to Lord Salisbury._

Turf Club, Piccadilly, W.: April 7, 1886.

Dear Lord Salisbury,--Hartington is to see Chamberlain to-night,
and will let me know the result of the interview here about twelve
this night.

He anticipates great difficulty with Chamberlain, because it
appears now that he wants himself to move the adjournment on
Thursday night, and that he may cut up very rough if again
interfered with. Lord H. says if Joe refuses to give way on this
point he (Lord H.) will not press it, and will decide to follow on
immediately after the G.O.M.

I trust it may be arranged in accordance with my views, because,
from my knowledge of the House of Commons under the Gladstone
spell, if the angel Gabriel was to follow the G.O.M. to-morrow
nobody would report him or care what he said; but by Friday morning
all the glamour will have disappeared, and the Hartington
brandy-and-soda will be relished as a remedy for the intoxication
of the previous evening.

I have written to Chamberlain asking him to see me this evening
before he sees Lord H.

I shall send you a line this evening about twelve in case anything
of interest ‘transpires.’

Yours most sincerely, RANDOLPH S. CHURCHILL.

_Lord Randolph Churchill to Lord Salisbury._

April 7, later.

Dear Lord Salisbury,--I had a long and most satisfactory interview
with Chamberlain this evening. In consequence he met Lord H. in a
friendly manner, and arranged as follows: that he (Joe) will move
the adjournment on Thursday evening, and that Lord H. is to speak
Friday, either before or after dinner--for preference before.
Trevelyan will speak to-morrow. Lubbock and Lymington will also
represent Whig impartiality and patriotism if required.

Therefore we have to find dinner-hour speakers, and Plunket as a
ten o’clock man. The debate is to be carried into next week. If
G.O.M. insists upon Monday for his Budget, Tuesday will be taken
for Home Rule.

I hope you may approve of all this. Yours most sincerely, RANDOLPH S. C.

The famous ‘Bill for the better government of Ireland,’ after various delays, came before the House of Commons on April 8, and was expounded by the Prime Minister with his usual power and more than his usual restraint. The Chamber, crowded from floor to ceiling with persons of distinction and authority, the purlieus of Parliament invaded by an excited throng, reflected the anxiety of his opponents and enforced the memorable importance of the day. It was discovered that the Irish members had taken possession of many places on the Conservative benches above the gangway. The group of ex-Ministers, clustered together as if on an island, seemed surrounded on every side by the exultant cheers of their opponents. And as they listened to the oratory of their grand antagonist and to the loud applauses which were raised from all parts of the House, more than one heart sank at the onslaught which must now be met.

Mr. Chamberlain did not speak till the following afternoon. Lord Randolph’s anxiety about the exact terms of the Royal permission was justified by the event. So soon as Mr. Chamberlain, in the course of his explanation, found it necessary to refer to the Land Bill, ‘a very startling proposal, involving the issue of 120,000,000_l._ Consols,’ Mr. Gladstone rose at once to remind ‘his right honourable friend,’ as he was always careful to call him, that the permission obtained from the Queen on his behalf had no relation whatever to the Land Bill, but referred to the Government of Ireland Bill alone. Mr. Chamberlain at once asserted that he had resigned on the Irish policy as expressed in the two Bills, and his explanation could not be complete unless he was allowed to refer to both. He asserted that he had asked the Prime Minister to obtain for him permission to read his letter of March 15, which dealt exclusively with the Land scheme, and that Mr. Gladstone had consented to this. The Prime Minister suavely observed that he could not recollect what letter was written to him on March 15, and that he had no power to extend the Queen’s permission beyond the limits of the Government of Ireland Bill. The situation was painful and acute. Mr. Chamberlain found himself in a position of astonishing difficulty. Quite apart from the painful nature of a misunderstanding upon matters almost of personal honour between distinguished men who had hitherto belonged to the same party, his whole speech--the ‘speech for dear life,’ on which so much depended--must at every step in the argument be interrupted, restricted and recast. In the hush of a great assembly, stirred by passions the fiercer that they were restrained, surrounded by political opponents and personal enemies, menaced by the rancorous attitude of the Nationalist members, and confronted by the greatest Parliamentarian of the age, the resigning Minister had to make up his mind whether to go on and defy the Prime Minister, whether to sit down at once and refuse to attempt a mutilated explanation, or whether to submit and say what could be said as well as possible. He chose the last, and he succeeded in delivering a speech of nearly an hour which proceeded by steps of close and sustained argument to a triumphant conclusion. Lord Randolph Churchill’s admiration for this memorable personal and Parliamentary feat was boundless. ‘By a supreme and unequalled effort,’ he wrote at once, ‘you have reasserted your position as leader of the Radical party, and on questions of Imperial policy you have gained the confidence of the country. I never heard anything better.’

In spite of all its unexpected restriction the speech of the resigning Minister had proved damaging to Bill and policy. But a more formidable shock was to follow. Mr. Chamberlain has been censured for having joined the Government of 1886 at all; and at the time, while passion was hot, he was freely accused of having joined it in order to wreck it. The letter which he had written to the Prime Minister before accepting office on January 30, asserting his opinions in perfectly unmistakable terms upon the Irish Question, and the ‘unlimited liberty of judgment and rejection’ which Mr. Gladstone had formally accorded him, are in themselves a powerful defence of his action. But Lord Hartington, who had from the very first held aloof, occupied a far stronger position; and from that position, with the ‘hereditary virtue of the whole House of Cavendish,’ in his usual temper of sober integrity, and in that style of homely yet profound argument which has always influenced the English mind, he now delivered a tremendous blow. For a long Parliament he had led the Liberal Opposition; for almost a generation he had filled great office; on a hundred important occasions he had been the spokesman of a Government and a party, and yet until he sat down after his speech on the introduction of the Home Rule Bill, no one on either side of the House knew what he could do. Mr. Chamberlain could answer the Prime Minister, Lord Randolph could attack him and fight him, Mr. Goschen could rate him; but Lord Hartington on this occasion did that to Mr. Gladstone which no other living man could do, and which Disraeli himself had seldom done--he rebuked him.

Beside these speeches the rest of the debate, distinguished as it was by so much wit and vigour, lay somewhat in shadow. The Chief Secretary, as the living embodiment of the new Irish policy, was heard with the greatest attention when he closed the discussion for that evening. In arraigning the late Government for their bewildering changes of mood and action towards Ireland, he fastened upon Lord Randolph a sharp adaptation of a famous verse which was devoid neither of justice nor severity:--

Stiff in opinions, often in the wrong,
Was everything by turns, and nothing long,
And in the course of one revolving moon
Was green and orange, statesman and buffoon.

Lord Randolph, when he resumed the debate next day, chose, like a good general, other ground to fight upon than that selected by his adversary as suited to attack. He spoke with unusual moderation, paying many elaborate tributes to the Prime Minister’s eloquence and glory, and dealing mainly, in laborious detail, with the fiscal and financial proposals of the Bill. He contrived, without actually applying the quotation, to remind the Chief Secretary of Grattan’s description of a speech of Lord Clare. ‘Great generosity of assertion, great thrift of argument, a turn to be offensive without the power to be severe--fury in the temper and famine in the phrase.’ He kept his most effective retort till the end. Mr. Morley had suggested that the consequences of the rejection of the Bill might be an outbreak of crime and outrage in Ireland, and against those responsible for its defeat. Lord Randolph rejoined with force and dignity that such considerations ought not to influence the House. ‘Are these new dangers? Have we never known of a “No Rent” Manifesto? Have we had no experience of dynamite explosions? The right honourable member for Bury can tell the House how we were providentially, and almost miraculously, preserved from an awful disaster. But the dynamiters--the people who were inculpated in these atrocities--are now undergoing what has been called a living death.... Then, sir, as to assassination. Assassination is one of the rarest incidents in modern political life. It used to be a common method of political warfare; but the growth and progress of civilisation has demonstrated its utter folly and inutility. A man in public life ought not to be deterred by the knowledge that by some mischance some day or other he might be the mark of a lunatic or criminal, any more than anybody contemplating a railway journey would be deterred by the fear of an accident.’ All this was greatly approved. ‘I think you must be quite satisfied,’ wrote Lord Salisbury, ‘that your care over your speech was not thrown away. Everybody acknowledges it to have been admirably judicious.’ But Lord Randolph did not set much store by his effort. ‘It appears,’ he wrote to his wife, ‘to have been rather a _succès d’estime_ than anything else; but the Whigs were very grateful to me for not being abusive of the G.O.M. or violent.’ And again to FitzGibbon: ‘I fear you must have thought my speech dull, but I was under an apprehension of saying anything to hurt the susceptibilities of timorous Whigs and Radicals, which made me very ineffective.’

No division was taken upon the first reading out of consideration for these same susceptibilities, and the debate was terminated on the 13th by Mr. Gladstone in another great oration. The introduction of the Bill being thus formally agreed to by Parliament, the agitation in the country and the fusion of the opposing forces proceeded amain. On the next day a meeting was held in Her Majesty’s Theatre, at which Lord Hartington appeared on the same platform as Lord Salisbury. The chair was taken by Lord Cowper, Mr. Gladstone’s late Viceroy, and he was supported by such representative men as Mr. Smith, Mr. P. Rylands and Mr. Goschen. The great company who assembled, mainly Conservative in their character, had no difficulty in coming to agreement upon a resolution hostile to the measure. Lord Randolph Churchill, for reasons which do not appear, thought this demonstration, known to history as ‘the Opera House meeting,’ a mistake, and he describes it in his private letters as a ‘piece of premature gush.’ He was inclined to attach more importance to a private conclave of Whig Peers which was held two days later at Derby House, which he attended, and of which he kept a record. All Mr. Gladstone’s Peers were present, there were scarcely any absentees and much practical business was settled. The Duke of Argyll and Lords Derby, Hartington, Camperdown, De Vesci, Ribblesdale and Selborne, all spoke. Lord Hartington explained that there was no question of a coalition. He said that nothing could exceed the loyalty and good faith of Lord Salisbury and the Tories. In his opinion they were fighting for the unity of the Empire, and not for personal advantage. He could not make any definite statement; but he told them they might take it for granted that the Tory party would loyally support all Unionist candidatures. The Lords were urged not to be afraid to use their influence upon local Liberal leaders; to tell the members that their seats would be unsafe if they supported the Bill; and to attend meetings, if possible, under Liberal auspices. If the Bill ever reached the House of Lords great efforts must be made to reject it unanimously. Meanwhile it was arranged that opposition to the measure was to be fanned by all imaginable means. The meeting separated in much enthusiasm and determination. ‘The feeling against the whole policy,’ wrote Lord Randolph to FitzGibbon the next day, ‘grows steadily; it is an undercurrent which the outside public cannot detect.’

Upon the Parliamentary tactics Lord Randolph had the clearest views:--

_Lord Randolph Churchill to Lord Hartington._

April 14, 1886.

Dear Lord Hartington,--I hope you will not think me officious or
presumptuous if I venture to urge upon you my views of the enormous
desirability of your giving notice to-morrow of your intention to
move the rejection of the Bill. Such a move will be the best answer
to the event of last night and the logical result of the meeting
this evening.

I cannot refrain from expressing the opinion that this Bill ought
to be dealt with on its merits, quite apart from any Land Bill, and
that delay in giving notice of rejection until after Friday would
be open to misinterpretation.

There are many waverers. The only way, to my mind, of leading such
persons is by resolute, prompt and decisive action.

Please forgive me for troubling you with these lines.

Yours very truly, RANDOLPH S. CHURCHILL.

The second half of Mr. Gladstone’s Irish policy--the Land Bill--was brought before Parliament on April 16. The Prime Minister had shown no apparent eagerness to make public this plan, and was credited by his opponents with intending to hold it back till after the Easter Recess, in order that the consideration of the Home Rule Bill might not be prejudiced and complicated. Any misgivings which he may have felt, were fully justified by the event. The measure was on all sides ill received. The landlords, whom it was meant to conciliate, would have nothing to do with it. Radicals disliked buying them out at such a price. Economists deplored the drain on national credit. The Irish members denounced the appointment of a Receiver-General. The Press, Metropolitan and provincial alike, was almost uniformly hostile. The Bill scarcely survived its birthday. No further progress was made or attempted with it in Parliament. It perished meanly, and its carcass was kept by enemies only in order to infect its companion.

The Easter holiday was a period of intense political activity. The Prime Minister must, of course, have known from the beginning that the Home Rule Bill would be thrown out in the Lords. The stakes were high. A direct conflict between the two Houses and a dissolution thereupon was an inevitable and perhaps an indispensable consequence of his policy. A defeat in the Commons would shield the Lords from the responsibility. They would not be concerned in any way. The issue would be confined to Home Rule alone, and democratic wrath could fall only upon the members of a representative assembly. It was therefore vital to Mr. Gladstone to secure the passage through the House of Commons of at least one of the two Bills, and every exertion was made by both sides to win the dissentients who held the fortunes of the struggle in balance.

The machinery of the Liberal party acted as machinery is intended to act. If the changes the leader of the party had proposed, had been twice as vast, and half as reasonable, it would have been equally obedient. If he had been an ordinary politician, instead of a great and famous man, he would, consciously or unconsciously, have controlled it still. Although Mr. Gladstone knew little of its ordinary workings, and would have been disquieted had he known more, it responded readily to his will. All its gigantic force began to grind up against the men who withstood him, and to it was added the fierce wave of enthusiasm that his magic drew from the Radical electorate. Nothing availed his opponents within their own party. Long, distinguished, faithful service, earnest agreement on all other subjects, the comradeship of battles scarcely ended, the chances of victories yet to come--all ceased to be worth consideration. Local Associations hastened to pass resolutions of confidence in the Prime Minister. To all members who were declared or reputed opponents of his measures--right or wrong--a hard and growing pressure was applied. Lord Hartington was required to explain his vote on the Jesse Collings amendment and his presence at the Opera House Meeting to the satisfaction of the Rossendale Liberal Council. ‘I have retracted,’ he said, ‘no word of condemnation or censure which I have uttered in regard to Conservative policy; and in regard to any question which is at issue between Liberals and Conservatives outside this question of the future government of Ireland, I hold that I am as free and as uncommitted as I ever was. Much as I value the unity of the Liberal party, I value the unity of the British Empire much more, and I will not be prevented by any party consideration from doing what, in my opinion, may be best fitted to maintain that union.’ Yet these brave, honest words from a representative so long trusted, preceded as they were by a letter from John Bright himself declaring that Lord Hartington’s attitude was thoroughly consistent with true Liberalism, failed to win a vote of confidence, and the most that could be obtained from the Rossendale Liberals was an expression of thanks for their member’s address.

The course of events in Birmingham was, for reasons some of which belong to this narrative, more remarkable. In all the arts of political warfare, especially in that which concerns the management of constituencies and electoral machinery, Mr. Chamberlain was unrivalled. The forces at his disposal were small; but he did not throw away a man or a chance. The introduction of the Land Bill gave him the opportunity of reading his letter of March 15 which Mr. Gladstone had formerly denied him, and of making many damaging criticisms upon that measure. Yet the tone which he adopted was more friendly than had been generally expected and his closing words, in which he expressed a hope that the differences between him and the Prime Minister would not prove irreconcilable or lasting, were warmly cheered from the Liberal benches. Mr. Chamberlain has stated with the utmost frankness, in an interview with Mr. Barry O’Brien,[52] that his intention ‘all the time’ was to kill the Home Rule Bill. ‘I was not opposed to the reform of the land laws. I was not opposed to Land Purchase. It was the right way to settle the Land Question. But there were many things in the Bill to which I was opposed on principle. My main object in attacking it, though, was to kill the Home Rule Bill. As soon as the Land Bill was out of the way, I attacked the question of the exclusion of the Irish members. I used that point to show the absurdity of the whole scheme.’ The belief in an accommodation was therefore baseless, and neither Mr. Chamberlain nor the Prime Minister could share the hopes of their followers.

The war on both sides was fair and fierce. Mr. Chamberlain was throughout at heart uncompromising; but he practised a conciliatory manner so that he might carry Birmingham with him. The Prime Minister, on his part, was duly grateful for his ex-colleague’s kindness; but he allowed the necessary preparations to go steadily forward for twisting from Mr. Chamberlain’s hands the organisations, local and national, he had so long controlled. ‘Gladstone,’ wrote Lord Randolph to FitzGibbon on the morrow of the Land Bill debate, ‘is pretending to make up to Joe, in order to pass his Bill; and Joe is pretending to make up to Gladstone, in order to throw out his Bill. Diamond cut diamond.’

On April 21 the Liberal ‘Two Thousand’ assembled in the Birmingham Town Hall to hear their member’s explanations. The meeting, which densely crowded the building, had been organised by Mr. Schnadhorst, and the exertions of that astute person to obtain a vote favourable to the Prime Minister had been unremitting. The speaker was not slow to understand the dangerous blow by which he was threatened. He excelled himself. If speeches rarely turn votes in Parliament, it is otherwise in the country. The man himself, their fighting leader, their most distinguished fellow-citizen, appealing for support from his own people, using arguments which none could answer, with a skill which none could rival, was irresistible. Mr. Chamberlain turned the meeting. Some were moved by the hopes--which he was careful not to destroy--that, after all, there would be peace. Others resolved to share with him the fortunes of the struggle. They came to curse; they remained to bless. Before he had finished, it was evident that he had won. The officials on the platform saw themselves almost deserted. In vain they pleaded for delay, for an adjournment, for anything rather than a vote from an assembly so moved. But Chamberlain demanded an immediate decision, and the meeting thought his demand was just. By an overwhelming majority--it is said, with only two dissentients--they passed a resolution of ‘unabated confidence’ in their member, and later a resolution which, though courteously worded, was in effect a condemnation of the Land Bill.

On May 3 Mr. Gladstone published a manifesto practically declaring that the Land Bill was no longer an essential article of the Liberal faith, and that in the Home Rule Bill all questions of detail were subsidiary to the one vital principle--the establishment of a legislative body in Dublin empowered to make laws for Irish as distinguished from Imperial affairs. On paper this should have met Mr. Chamberlain’s principal objections. Yet two days later, without waiting for any fresh declaration from him, the official Gladstonians carried at a special meeting of the National Liberal Federation a series of resolutions pledging that body--upon which Mr. Chamberlain’s influence had hitherto been supreme--to an unconditional support of the Government. The policy of making diplomatic concessions while fleets and armies are moving into advantageous positions, seldom leads to peace, and Parliament met after the Easter Recess more confused and divided than ever before.

The Second Reading of the Home Rule Bill had been fixed for May 6, the anniversary, as Lord Randolph Churchill lost no time in pointing out, of the Phœnix Park murders. It was postponed until the 10th, and on that day began the protracted and memorable debate that ended the Parliament and shattered the Liberal party. Up to the time when the Land Bill was introduced Ministers believed that they would certainly carry Home Rule through the House of Commons. But day by day the Parliamentary situation grew darker. Lord Hartington moved the rejection of the Bill in an impressive speech. Fifty-two Liberal and Radical members met Mr. Chamberlain on the 12th to concert resistance and request him to negotiate no longer. Sixty-four, including thirty-two who had been at the former meeting, assembled at Devonshire House on the 14th. By the 18th Lord Hartington felt himself strong enough to make at Bradford declarations which foreshadowed a hostile vote. On the 22nd the National Liberal Union was formed of the principal Liberal dissentients all over the country; while in Birmingham Mr. Chamberlain actually created an entirely new democratic caucus of his own, to replace the organisation which Mr. Schnadhorst had wrested from him.

But at the last moment everything came near being thrown into the melting-pot again. On May 27 Mr. Gladstone called a meeting of the Liberals at the Foreign Office. Above 260 members attended. The proceedings were harmonious, and the speech of the Prime Minister most conciliatory. He said that the Government desired by a vote on the Second Reading no more than to establish the principle of the measure, which was the creation in Ireland of a legislative body for the management of affairs exclusively and specifically Irish. If the Second Reading were affirmed, no further steps would be taken for passing the measure that session; it would be withdrawn, and could be proceeded with in an autumn session, or reintroduced in a new session with the clauses which presented most difficulty remodelled or reconstructed. Moreover, a vote for the Second Reading of the Irish Government Bill given by an independent member, left the giver absolutely free as to his vote on the Land Purchase Bill.

The plan was at once practical and alluring. The House was invited to pass little more than an abstract resolution. The controversy of the Land Bill was put aside; many of the controversies of the Home Rule Bill would be relegated to the Committee stage. Yet, once the Second Reading was passed, the Government would be immensely strengthened. A great decision favourable to them would have been taken by Parliament. Above all, there would be delay. Time would be secured to the Government to win back their followers by blandishments and concessions, as well as by the pressure of local organisations. Time was offered to the waverer and the weakling--and among all the plain men jostled and buffeted in this fierce contention there were many such--to put off the evil and momentous hour of decision and to cling for a while to a middle course. Time, too, would be at work among the slender new-formed Unionist alliances. Was it strange that the rank and file of the Liberal party should welcome this easy yet honourable escape and certain respite amid alternatives so full of hazard?

The dangerous character of this manœuvre, not less than its extreme ingenuity, was patent to the Unionist leaders. The Whigs were embarrassed and perplexed, and Mr. Chamberlain’s position became one of aggravated and peculiar difficulty. On all sides forces laboriously accumulated threatened to dissolve. In this crisis Lord Randolph Churchill’s instinct and resolution were decisive. One course opened perfectly clear and distinct before him. A hot debate must be forced at once and at all costs in the House of Commons. Mr. Gladstone must be stung into reply; and then, what with the taunts and interruptions of the Opposition and the powerful influence of the Irish audience--not represented at the Foreign Office meeting--he would in all probability be driven to a more uncompromising declaration. As soon as he came down to the House on Friday the 28th, he thrust this forward upon his colleagues on the Front Opposition Bench and urged that Smith or Beach should move the adjournment without delay. The others hesitated. The movers of the adjournment would be on very weak ground and possessed, as it seemed, but a slight and doubtful pretext. The skill of the Prime Minister in explanations soothing to all parties was measureless and unrivalled. A Parliamentary rebuff at such a moment might have the most serious consequences. But Lord Randolph clinched the matter.

At the conclusion of questions Sir Michael Hicks-Beach rose and invited the Prime Minister to declare definitely his intentions in regard to the Bill. Mr. Gladstone’s reply was suave, and ended as follows: ‘Reference must be made elsewhere before I proceed to give authoritative information to the House; but there is nothing at all improper in asking for that information, and on an early day I may be in a position to give it.’ Forthwith Sir Michael Hicks-Beach asked leave to move the adjournment of the House, and in spite of the angry cries of ‘No’ which were raised by Ministerialists he handed to the Speaker a written notice of motion, which the Speaker somewhat doubtfully accepted. All the members on the Opposition benches and a few on the Government side of the House rose amid much cheering and some laughter in its support. Sir Michael then delivered a vigorous and provocative speech. Mr. Gladstone had said that the Bill was urgent: yet now it was to be postponed for five months. He had declared that the Government had a plan, that no one else had a plan, and that their plan held the field: yet now the House was asked to give an indefinite vote on some undefined principle of autonomy for Ireland, which might mean anything or nothing and was, in fact, a mere abstract resolution. If the Second Reading of the Bill were carried under conditions like that, it would be nothing more nor less than a ‘Continuance in Office Bill.’

This was all received with great Opposition cheering, and Mr. Gladstone laid aside the letter he was writing and rose to reply. He began in his most majestic manner. He was struck by the warmth of the speech to which they had listened. He would not imitate it. The imputation that the Government were considering their own continuance of office was one he would not condescend to discuss. That he left to the generous consideration of his countrymen. But as his speech proceeded, the cheers of his followers and the wealth and splendour of his language and ideas produced an exhilarating effect. ‘We have before us a conflict in which we are prepared to go through to the end--(_loud cheers_)--and in which we are perfectly confident of the final issue. (_Renewed cheers._) But we will not take our tactics from the Opposition.’ (_Cheers._) And then followed a passage which proved of momentous importance. ‘The right honourable gentleman says that we are going to give an indefinite vote, and that the Bill is to be remodelled. I think that happy word is a pure invention. I am not aware that there is a shadow or shred of authority for any such statement.’

LORD RANDOLPH CHURCHILL: Reconstructed.

MR. GLADSTONE: The noble lord says ‘reconstructed’ was the word. It is quite true that the word ‘reconstructed’ was used. (_Loud Opposition cheers and laughter._) What confidence these gentlemen who use those means of opposition must have in the rectitude of their own cause and the far-seeing character of their own statesmanship! (_Cheers._) The word ‘reconstructed’ was used. Does the noble lord dare to say it was used with respect to the Bill?

LORD RANDOLPH CHURCHILL: Yes.

MR. GLADSTONE: Never! Never! (_Cheers._) It was used with respect to one particular clause of the Bill. This grand attack, founded upon the fact that our Bill was to be remodelled, therefore fails. What a woeful collapse! It is not the Bill that is to be remodelled, it appears, after all. (_Home Rule cheers and laughter._) The noble lord spoke boldly of my speech, but now it turns out that he read it wrong. (_More laughter._)

Seldom has rhetorical success been more dearly purchased. If Mr. Gladstone had made a lame and ineffective speech, if he had contrived to sit down leaving the impression that he was hesitating and uncertain, the course of history might have run very differently. The support of wavering friends might have been secured. A word would have reassured Parnell. The Second Reading might have been carried. But the very excellence of his arguments defeated his schemes and his uncompromising statements settled the fate of the Bill. ‘Never! Never!’ was the last word in the negotiations with the Liberal and Radical Unionists; it was the wrench which broke finally and for ever the many ties of sentiment and interest which bound them to their party: henceforth they looked back no more, and strode forward into the future, anxious but not undecided.

Some realisation of the possible effect of his words seemed to come to the Minister after they were spoken, for he lapsed into ambiguity and reservations; ‘and,’ said he before sitting down, ‘if we had made some great error in the management of this Bill, the right honourable gentleman would not have interposed to-day with his motion for adjournment, but would probably have sat with folded arms, delighted to see how we walked into some one of the many snares set for us.’

Lord Randolph Churchill followed in debate. It was not possible then to know how deep was the impression made upon the Liberal-Unionists by the uncompromising statements of the Prime Minister, and Lord Randolph, in a speech which provoked the occupants of the Treasury Bench, which many mistook for a mere taunting attack, but which was, in reality, a very adroit and skilful performance, endeavoured with no little success to extort from Mr. Gladstone and the Home Rulers repeated admissions that the division on the Second Reading was to be a real trial of strength and repeated denials that the Bill was to be dropped or reconstructed. To do this it was necessary to assert the contrary in an exaggerated form--yet without exciting suspicion; and anyone who may chance to read the speech from this point of view will discern the artifice lurking in every part. The offer which the Government made to the House was, he suggested, this: ‘If you vote for the Second Reading of this Bill, we will withdraw the Bill, and you shall never hear of it again’; and when this excited protests he swiftly changed his ground and declared that the Prime Minister was speaking with two voices--‘a voice to the Irish members that the Bill is not to be reconstructed--[_No!_]--a voice to the Liberals below the Gangway that it is to be reconstructed.’ [_No! No!_] He asked Mr. Gladstone why he would not ‘present a fair issue and stick to his guns,’ adding, amid a storm of Ministerial wrath, ‘we are being jockeyed.’ Why was it necessary to delay the Bill? ‘The right honourable gentleman says he has no time. Why has he no time? To whom is it principally due that this debate has been so protracted? Who refused to take it _de die in diem_? Who interposed every obstacle which Parliamentary experience and ingenuity could suggest? Why, sir, if it had not been for the obstacles interposed by the Prime Minister himself, we might have divided on this Bill a week ago. And what is the remedy? “The question,” says the Prime Minister, “is very urgent. I still hold to the doctrine of extreme urgency; but we have no time to deal with it this summer and we will therefore put off further dealing with it till the end of the year.” [_Mr. Gladstone dissented._] The Prime Minister is very captious about dates. We will put off dealing with the Bill then to some period in the future marked out for us by those “limitations which are imposed upon us by the revolutions of the heavenly bodies.” The right honourable gentleman complains of want of time, and he says: “We will not send the Bill up to the House of Lords in August.” Because why? Because the House of Lords will seek refuge in the excuse that they cannot consider the measure in the time at their disposal. [MR. GLADSTONE: ‘Hear! Hear!’] Sir, I dare say that the Prime Minister is far better acquainted with Peers than I am. He has made a great many of them--but whatever course the House of Lords may take will not, I am certain, be based upon such frivolous grounds as that, and I am perfectly convinced that he need not have the smallest fear whatever that the question of time will be raised. I have not a doubt about it that the decision of the House of Lords upon this Bill will be serious, calm, immediate and final.’ After complaining that information should be given to one group of members at the Foreign Office and refused to the House of Commons as a whole, Lord Randolph proceeded: ‘What has been the great bribe offered by the Prime Minister--a bribe as great as any offered at the time of the Act of Union? “If you vote for the Second Reading of a Bill which you do not approve of in your hearts and which you disbelieve in, I promise that at any rate for another twelve months you shall not be sent back to your constituencies.” This is the noble policy of the right honourable gentleman, and the noble motives by which he appeals to Parliament: “Vote for anything you like; you are committed to nothing.”’

MR. GLADSTONE: Oh no.

LORD RANDOLPH CHURCHILL: What? Then they are committed!

MR. GLADSTONE: Certainly.

LORD RANDOLPH CHURCHILL: The Prime Minister surprises me. I did not think it possible to be surprised by him. Does he contend, from a Parliamentary point of view, that members by voting for the Second Reading of the Bill can be committed to the Bill if that Bill dies or is withdrawn?

MR. GLADSTONE: The principle of the Bill.

LORD RANDOLPH CHURCHILL: Never was such a view held in Parliament before. I venture to say never; and that is why the Prime Minister holds out to members the bribe that if they will only vote for the principle of the Bill, which they disapprove of, and which is going to be withdrawn and possibly never heard of again, he will consent to give them a little longer lease of political life. The manœuvres of the Government were such as might be expected from ‘an old Parliamentary hand’; they were not those which statesmen like Lord Russell, Lord Althorp or Sir Robert Peel would have contemplated; and, having drawn forth one final demonstration from the Ministerial benches by protesting in a concluding sentence against this attempt to ‘hocus’ the House of Commons, Lord Randolph sat down well satisfied.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer rose to reply. In his most impressive style he undertook to administer a solemn rebuke for the use of such words as ‘jockey’ and ‘hocus.’ ‘This, sir,’ he said portentously, ‘is the language of the Derby.’ ‘No,’ retorted Lord Randolph across the table, in one of those penetrating half-whispers with which he so often riveted his hearers, ‘it is the language of the Hoax.’ It was some time before Sir William Harcourt was able to regain the serious attention of the House.

The manœuvre had indeed been successful--but how successful could not yet be known. Mr. Chamberlain summoned a meeting of his followers for May 31, finally to determine whether to vote against the Bill or to abstain. ‘Everything,’ he wrote to Lord Randolph (May 29), ‘turns on Monday’s meeting’; and it is clear from his letter that he had not absolutely decided upon his course. He even states elaborately the reasons which made for abstention instead of a direct vote. Lord Randolph ventured upon a final appeal. He wrote:--

May 29, 1886.

I feel almost certain that if you remain as firm in the future as
you have been in the past the Bill will be destroyed now; otherwise
it will only be ‘scotched,’ and will wriggle about more venomous
and mischievous than before. I think you must be satisfied with
your decision to delay your meeting and your speech. I am sure that
the greater bulk of your followers will stick to you, and stick to
you with all the more admiration and fidelity, if you keep your
foot down. Every day is showing more distinctly what madness it is
to trust the G.O.M.... It seems to me that if you allow your party
to give way, now that they know that the Bill in the autumn will
not be a reconstructed Bill, but the same Bill, both you and your
party will occupy a position of much humility, and you will have
missed at the last moment the prize which was actually in your
grasp. If you have any who are very weak about their seats let me
know the names, and I will do my best to secure them from Tory
opposition. But I do implore you to stick to your guns.... You
won’t mind my troubling you with these lines.

All went well at the meeting. A letter from Mr. Bright is said to have turned the scale. Fifty-five gentlemen attended, and their resolve to vote against the Second Reading doomed the Bill. Radical Associations might assert their loyalty and support; democratic enthusiasm might rise to fever-heat in the country; but, so far as Parliament was concerned, the issue was settled. After this eventful interlude there was little left but to go to a division, and at the end of the next sitting Sir Michael Hicks-Beach announced that the Front Opposition Bench would take no more part in the debate. Yet the discussion was prolonged throughout another week, in the hopes that wavering rebels might return; and to that end every influence which the Government could employ, from the personal power and charm of the Minister to the discontent of local organisations, was sedulously employed.

At last the day of decision came. An anxious crowd hung about the precincts of Westminster. The House was packed in every part. A final sensation remained. Mr. Parnell had waited till the end of the debate and he had something in reserve which might well have shaken opinion. ‘When the Tories were in office,’ he said, in the course of one of his ablest speeches, ‘we had reason to know that the Conservative party, if they should be successful at the polls, would have offered Ireland a statutory legislature with a right to protect her own industries, and that this would have been coupled with the settlement of the Irish Land Question on the basis of purchase, on a larger scale than that now proposed by the Prime Minister.’

Sir Michael Hicks-Beach, when his turn came to conclude the debate on behalf of the Conservatives, met this statement with the bluntest of denials. ‘I must for myself and my colleagues,’ he said, ‘state in the plainest and most distinct terms that I utterly and categorically deny that the late Conservative Government ever had any such intention.’ Parnell’s answer was staggering. ‘Does the right honourable gentleman mean to deny that that intention was communicated to me by one of his own colleagues--a Minister of the Crown?’ ‘Yes, sir, I do,’ said the Leader of the Opposition at once; and then he added prudently, ‘to the best of my knowledge and belief; and if any such statement was communicated by anyone to the honourable member, I am certain he had not the authority to make it.’ ‘Name! name!’ cried the members imperiously in their excitement. ‘Will the honourable member,’ said Sir Michael, ‘do us the pleasure to give the name to the House?’ ‘I shall be very glad,’ replied Parnell, amid renewed cries of ‘Name!’ from all sides, ‘to communicate the name of that colleague when I receive that colleague’s permission to do so.’ Every eye was turned upon Lord Randolph Churchill, sitting on the Front Opposition Bench. But he remained gravely silent, twisting his moustache moodily. Not until Lord Carnarvon’s explanations two days later in the House of Lords was he relieved from a suspicion so injurious to his character.

This was the end; and after it Mr. Gladstone brought this great debate to a close in a manner worthy of its memorable importance and surpassing all the fire and eloquence which had illumined its progress.

‘I do not deny,’ he said, ‘that many are against us whom we should have expected to be for us. I do not deny that some whom we see against us have caused us by their conscientious action the bitterest disappointment. But you have power, you have wealth, you have rank, you have station, you have organisation, you have the place of power. What have we? We think that we have the people’s heart; we believe and we know we have the promise of the harvest of the future. As to the people’s heart, you may dispute it, and dispute it with perfect sincerity. Let that matter make its own proof. As to the harvest of the future, I doubt if you have so much confidence, and I believe that there is in the breast of many a man who means to vote against us to-night a profound misgiving, approaching even to a deep conviction, that the end will be as we foresee, and not as you--that the ebbing tide is with you, and the flowing tide is with us. Ireland stands at your bar, expectant, hopeful, almost suppliant. Her words are the words of truth and soberness. She asks a blessed oblivion of the past, and in that oblivion our interest is deeper than even hers. My right hon. friend Mr. Goschen asks us to-night to abide by the traditions of which we are the heirs. What traditions? By the Irish tradition? Go into the length and breadth of the world, ransack the literature of all countries, find, if you can, a single voice, a single book--find, I would almost say, as much as a single newspaper article, unless the product of the day, in which the conduct of England towards Ireland is anywhere treated except with profound and bitter condemnation. Are these the traditions by which we are exhorted to stand? No, they are a sad exception to the glory of our country. They are a broad and black blot upon the pages of its history, and what we want to do is to stand by the traditions in which we are the heirs in all matters except our relations to Ireland, and to make our relations to Ireland conform to the other traditions of our country. So I hail the demand of Ireland for what I call a blessed oblivion of the past. She asks also a boon for the future; and that boon for the future, unless we are much mistaken, will be a boon to us in respect of honour no less than a boon to her in respect of happiness, prosperity and peace. Such, sir, is her prayer. Think, I beseech you--think well, think wisely, think not for a moment but for the years that are to come, before you reject this Bill.’

The House proceeded immediately to the division. A Whig and a Radical were named jointly tellers for the ‘Noes.’ The whole Conservative party with two exceptions--one because of divergence and the other through serious illness--passed into the Lobby. Yet such had been the strain of the conflict, so many the uncertainties, so powerful this last supreme appeal, that--pledges, agreements, careful calculations notwithstanding--the issue seemed to hang in the balance; and Lord Randolph Churchill, staring at the crowd as they shuffled by, thought them so shrunken that he loudly exclaimed: ‘There are not three hundred men with us.’ So great, indeed, was the excitement and apprehension that after they had quitted the Lobby scores of Unionist members, instead of going to their seats in the Chamber, remained massed about the doorway, eagerly counting with the tellers; and when the three hundred and thirty-sixth man was told, and it was certain that the Bill was rejected, such a shout went up as Parliament has seldom heard. The Government was defeated by 341 votes to 311.

Like Sir Robert Peel forty years before, Mr. Gladstone must now face the spectacle, melancholy even to an opponent, of the break-up of a great party. Few were left to him of all that able band who in such good heart had joined his Government of 1880. Bright had parted from him; Forster was dead; Hartington and Goschen and James were gone; Chamberlain was a bitter and formidable foe. The Liberal party was shattered. The Whigs had marched away in a body. The Radicals were torn in twain. The Parliament so lately returned in his support had destroyed itself, almost before it had lived, rather than follow him further. His friends estranged, his enemies united, the faithful in jeopardy, the deserters confident; the wealth, the rank, the intellect of England embattled and arrayed against him; the Bill on which he had set his heart cast out by the House of Commons; what wonder, then, that this proud old man, feeling that the years were drawing to a close, yet remembering his triumphs and conscious of his power, should reach out for the sledge-hammer of democracy, and fiercely welcome the appeal to the people!

Parliament was dissolved on the twenty-seventh of June.