Chapter XVII: The Turn of the Tide (2)

Mr. Goschen having failed to secure election at Liverpool, Parliament met upon January 27 without a Chancellor of the Exchequer. The Speaker had indicated the proper time for explanation; and when Lord Randolph Churchill rose, immediately after the notices of motion, from the second bench above the gangway, the appearance of the House was a proof of the interest with which that explanation was awaited. He followed punctiliously the course he had indicated in his letter to the Prime Minister; and his tone, though a little sarcastic, was not at all unfriendly to the Government. As a statement his speech was unexceptionable in all respects; as an explanation it was necessarily inadequate. Little was added to the knowledge of the public; and although the calm antagonism of the letters on both sides was not without its effect upon the House, the general feeling when he sat down was of disappointment. This impression, which was deepened by a most dreary fog which invaded the chamber, found abundant record in the prints of next day.

He spoke again three days later in the debate on the Address, following, as it happened, in succession to Mr. Bradlaugh. Preserving throughout a jaunty air of independence, he nevertheless made it perfectly clear that he intended to remain a supporter of the Union and of the Conservative Administration. He derided the Plan of Campaign, and defended and eulogised, with humour and effect, the policy of the Chief Secretary, who had been, as usual, assailed by the violence of one Irish party and by the suspicions of the other, and who was, moreover, suffering from the severe affection of the eyes which was soon to necessitate his retirement. He pointed out that the Procedure proposals, for which he had been personally so much attacked, were in precisely the same form as when he resigned, and that the legislative programme of the gracious Speech ‘bore a strong family resemblance to that set forth in a certain speech made in Kent not long ago.’ He noticed the revival of the old paragraph that the Estimates had been framed _with due regard to economy and efficiency_. ‘They must have been greatly altered,’ he observed, ‘since I left the Cabinet.’ He spoke, in characteristic words--the truth of which has not been unpaired by time--of the difficulties which the House of Commons encounters in any attempt to control or even criticise expenditure.

But the passage of greatest significance referred to the Chamberlain overtures and negotiations with the Gladstonian Liberals, which were at that time taking the form of the celebrated Round Table Conference. ‘I notice,’ he said, ‘a tendency of the party of the Union to attach too much importance to precarious Parliamentary alliances, which are as transient and uncertain as the shifting wind, and too little to the far more important question how to keep the English people at the back of the party of the Union. When I was in the Government I made it my constant thought and desire to make things as easy as possible for the Liberal Unionists, to introduce such measures as they might conscientiously support as being in accordance with their general principles, and to make such electoral arrangements as might enable them to preserve their seats. But I frankly admit that I regarded the Liberal Unionists as a useful kind of crutch, and I looked forward to the time, and no distant time, when the Tory party might walk alone, strong in its own strength and conscious of its own merits; and it is to the Tory party, and solely to the Tory party, that I looked for the maintenance of the Union.’ He went on to say that Mr. Chamberlain, in these negotiations, was pursuing ‘an erroneous and mistaken course.’ ‘The Tory party will, I think, never follow a line of policy which by any reasonable construction can create in Dublin anything in the nature of an Irish Parliament. That is our clear position, from which, under no pretence of local self-government, shall we depart; and it would be well for the right honourable gentleman the Member for Birmingham, who is now indulging in such extraordinary gyrations, to recognise that, whatever schemes of Home Rule for Ireland may commend themselves to him, they are not, under any circumstances, likely to commend themselves to members on this side of the House.’

These somewhat discursive observations were in themselves brilliantly successful and were heard by the House with keen pleasure and attention. ‘Very many thanks for last night,’ wrote Beach; ‘you are a good friend.’ But in spite of this, and although the intervention attracted so much notice from subsequent speakers as to excite the remark that the debate proceeded less upon the Queen’s Speech than upon Lord Randolph Churchill’s, it cannot be called well conceived. The weak, and at the same time the strong, point was the ‘crutch.’ Those who were independent of such support laughed and laughed again; but the Liberal-Unionist members, and those who owed their seats to Liberal-Unionist votes, were at once offended and alarmed. Although intended in a spirit of sober candour, it had about it a suspicion of reckless mischief, which his many opponents were not slow to turn to profit. Mr. Chaplin belaboured him vigorously in reply. The Unionist newspapers adopted uniformly an attitude of solemn rebuke; and while Government speakers in a long succession denounced or deplored such disrespect of loyal allies, Mr. Jennings alone among his friends was able to offer an effective defence. Moreover, the Liberal Unionists at this stage of their transition were the natural and legitimate associates of a Democratic Tory. They looked to the progressive elements in the Conservative party to make the Unionist alliance easy in Parliament and to give them countenance in the constituencies. Their leaders were far from being unsympathetic to the cause of economy; and Chamberlain especially, who had shown himself willing and anxious to co-operate in various ways, and whose position at this time was difficult, delicate and insecure, had, it must be admitted, good grounds for his complaint.

_Mr. Chamberlain to Lord Randolph Churchill._

_Private._

40 Prince’s Gardens, S.W.: February 2, 1887.

My dear Churchill,--Why will you insist on being an Ishmael--your
hand against every man? Why did you go out of your way on Monday to
attack me?

You know that I am the mildest of men, but I have a strong
inclination to hit out at those who strike me, and my experience
teaches me that no private friendship can long resist the effect of
public contest.

You and I have plenty of enemies. Is it not possible for us each
to pursue his own way without coming into personal conflict?

Surely we shall have our hands fully occupied without tearing out
each other’s eyes.

Yours sincerely, J. CHAMBERLAIN.

Lord Randolph seems to have realised that there was for the moment nothing that he could usefully do; and on the morrow of his speech he came suddenly to a decision.

_To his Mother._

2 Connaught Place, W.: February 2, 1887.

After great reflection and balancing of everything I have decided
upon a little holiday abroad and am off to-morrow night. I shall be
away, I expect, about six weeks, and H. Tyrwhitt and I contemplate
going to Algiers, Tunis, Malta, Palermo, Naples, and so home. It
will, I think, be a grand rest for me, and good for the nerves. I
don’t see that I can do any good by hanging on here day after day.
The Address will go on for a long time; then will come Procedure,
then Coercion; so that when I come back they will not be much
further ahead than they are now. I think my speech last night did a
lot of good, and H. Chaplin’s violent attack shows how much the
enemy is alarmed. I am told H. C. did not go down very well, and
Jennings answered him capitally. George[61] will watch after my
interests, and I shall ask him to take charge of my correspondence.

I have no information as to what is passing inside Ministerial
circles, but I have an instinctive feeling that all is not right
and that they will come to grief. Beach was very grateful to me for
what I said about him.

I wish I could have seen you before going, for a farewell talk over
everything. I have a lot to do to put things in order and to get
ready.

To Chamberlain he wrote (February 3) in amicable terms, not withdrawing in any way from his discouragement of the Round Table Conference, but indicating his difficulties and announcing his project. ‘I do not think I said anything which ought even to ruffle our private friendship, which--though it may seem a paradox to say so--is one of the chief and few remaining attractions of political life. For the moment I am quite tired and worn out. “Many dogs have come about me, and the council of the wicked layeth siege against me.” Therefore I seek a temporary refuge and repose in a flight to the south and to the sun.’

His friends, for the most part, thought him right to go. ‘Be of good cheer,’ wrote the warm-hearted Jennings; ‘you are by no means alone. As for the men whom you have put into office, or who would not be in office but for you, their conduct makes me sick. I am very glad you are going away for rest and change. It will give time for events to shape themselves; and when you are gone, you will be missed, and kinder feelings will enter into the consideration of your position. You could not do much good just now, and anything that went wrong would be laid on your shoulders. You will come back in time to save both party and Ministry from the consequences of their own incapacity. My deepest sympathies will always be with you in your unequal, but just and honourable, struggle. I would stake my life upon your ultimate success.’ Sometimes, perhaps, these wagers are accepted.

The next night--February 3--Lord Randolph left England, and I shall not offer to the reader other accounts of his wanderings than his own.

_To his Wife._

February 9, 1887: Hôtel Régence, Algiers.

...It is certainly very pleasant getting away from the cold and
worry of London. I have hardly given two thoughts to politics since
I left; but I wonder whether there is still much carping going on
against me, or whether my flight has disarmed my enemies.

_To his Mother._

Biskra: February 15, 1887.

I suppose this will find you back in London. I was so glad to get
your letter, long and interesting, from the Castle. I expect you
must have found it pleasant there on the whole. If anything could
remove any lingering doubts I may have had as to the prudence of
leaving the Government, it would be the charm of this place, which
I should not have experienced except for that rather strong
proceeding.

The weather is beautiful--the air quite cold, and the sun not too
hot. We shall remain here till the end of the week. Harry Tyrwhitt
is a most amiable companion, and possesses the additional
qualification of being fond of chess, so we are never at a loss to
pass the time.

We had a long drive from Batna, twelve hours, but through an
attractive and varied country. This place is right in the true
desert, and is a great grove of palm-trees of all sorts, shapes and
sizes, difficult to get to, but well worth the trouble. In another
two years they will have finished the railway right up to here,
and then the quiet of the place will probably be spoilt.

We shall leave Friday or Saturday for Constantine, and then on to
Tunis. I saw in a French paper that Goschen had got in, but it did
not give the numbers. However, I confess I do not think much of
politics, and rejoice over my freedom and idleness--which I hope
will not shock you.

_To his Mother._

Constantine: February 21, 1887.

I was so glad to find here, on arrival last night, your two letters
of the 10th and 12th. I read and pondered very carefully all you
wrote about what Ashbourne said. But I do not think there will ever
be any question of my rejoining the present Government. When the
old gang with their ideas are quite played out and proved to be
utter failures, then, perhaps, people will turn to the young lot.
Till this time comes, and I do not think it is far off, I must wait
patiently. I consider my position a very good one, and, though it
may seem a strange thing to say, better than if I was in my old
place in the Government. I am not mixed up or responsible for their
policy or their proceedings, which are, I think, faulty and feeble
and hopelessly inadequate to what the times require. I am very glad
Dunraven resigned. He is a man of considerable importance, and has
made a position for himself with the working men.

I am so glad you liked Ireland, and I delight to hear of
Castlereagh’s success. I always felt sure he was admirably fitted
for the post. George writes me invaluable reports on House of
Commons affairs. I should like to form a Government, if only to
give him a real good place; his letters are most able. If you are
giving any little dinners, I wish you would ask Jennings, M.P. He
is a very clever man, and would interest you.

This is certainly a pleasant and amusing country to travel in, if
only the hotels were a little better. The weather, though bright,
is not warm, and I wear thick clothes, as in England.

We go to Tunis to-morrow. I am feeling very well, I am thankful to
say, and keep blessing my stars I am not in the House of Commons.
If people only knew how little official life really attracts me,
they would judge one’s actions differently.

_To his Wife._

Tunis: February 25, 1887.

We have decided to go on to Palermo to-night, for there is no other
boat till to-day week; and if it was stormy weather then, we should
have to cross whether we liked it or no--whereas now the weather is
beautiful and calm, so we take advantage of it to get over the
Mediterranean and hope to arrive at Palermo Saturday evening....
This is a more interesting place than any we have yet seen--much
more truly Eastern. The old native bazaar is delightfully curious.
I bought you a few pieces of stuff which will serve to cover
cushions or to make portières. Having once seen the town, there is
nothing much more to see, and I do not know how we should pass a
week here.... We passed through much beautiful country coming here
from Constantine; it is all well worth seeing. Last night we went
to see Aïss Sawa, an extraordinary troop of fanatic Arabs who dance
and yell, cut themselves with swords, and eat nails, broken glass
and scorpions. I think there is a good deal of humbug and trickery
in it; but it was very curious and very barbarous, and for noise a
pandemonium....

_To his Wife._

Palermo: March 2, 1887.

I have to-day got hold of a whole week’s file of the Times, down to
the 25th, which has posted me up in political matters. I think the
Government are earning a rather second-rate kind of _succès
d’estime_, but I fancy I detect signs of feebleness and
inefficiency, which will become obvious when real difficulty
arises. I own W. H. Smith has done better than I expected, for I
expected a complete breakdown; but, having made that admission, his
speeches read to me most commonplace, and I think before long the
House and the party will get much bored with him. I am amused at
the Government surrender about my Army and Navy Estimates Committee
in reply to a question from George C.[62] I expect the Burnley
election quickened their sluggish economic impulses. The election I
look upon as very significant, and as bearing out what I wrote to
A. Douglas. They may plod on in Parliament, but they are losing
their hold on the imagination and enthusiasm of the country
generally. However, all this is speculation. In any case, I am in
no hurry to come home--and am, too, thankful I went away. Really I
have had a nice time hitherto....

_To his Mother._

Messina: March 9.

Here we are, caught like rats in a trap. Just as we were packing up
yesterday to leave for Naples it was announced that on account of
cholera at Catania quarantine had been imposed in Sicily, and that
we could not leave. This is a great blow, for we do not know how
long we may be detained here. There is nothing to see or do, and
the hotel is dirty and uncomfortable. We are in despair....

_To his Wife._

Naples: March 12, 1887.

I send you the enclosed under what the Foreign Office calls ‘Flying
Seal,’ which means you are to read it and send it on; it will tell
you of our proceedings. At last we have got here, but without
either servants or luggage; goodness knows when they will come.
Harry T. and I made up our minds we would not stand being detained
prisoners indefinitely at Messina. We made a fruitless application
to the Ambassador at Rome to be exempted from quarantine; all
regular steamboats had been taken off, and even if we had got a
passage we should have had to do five days’ quarantine at Gaeta--a
horrible prospect. So we went to the Consul--a character he is! He
introduced us to a man who knew a man who knew some Sicilian
fishermen who for a consideration would put us across the Straits.
_Nous n’avons fait ni un ni deux_, but pursued the project. We
embarked in an open boat at eight o’clock on Wednesday evening in
Messina harbour, with nothing but a tiny bag and a rug, with a
dissolute sort of half-bred Englishman and Sicilian, to act as
interpreter and guide, and six wild, singing, chattering Sicilian
fishermen. We reached the Calabrian coast about 9.30; but the
difficulty was to find a landing-place where there were no
gendarmes or coastguards or inhabitants awake. The last danger was
the greatest, for the peasantry are awfully superstitious about
cholera, and are a wild, savage people; and we might have had rough
treatment if any number of them happened to see us.

At last we found a little fishing village where all was quiet. In
we ran, out we jumped, and off went the boat like lightning. After
clambering up some precipitous rocks, fortunately without waking
anyone or breaking our necks, we found temporary shelter in a
miserable inn, where we represented ourselves as having come by
boat from Reggio, and being unable to get back on account of the
strong Sirocco wind which was blowing. We had to wait about an hour
here all alone, with two wild men and a wild woman, while our guide
was quietly endeavouring to find a conveyance. At last he got a
common cart, and about eleven o’clock we started for the house of
an Englishman at San Giovanni who has a silk mill, and to whom we
had a letter from the Consul. The innkeeper and his companions
asked a lot of tiresome questions and seemed very suspicious, but
in the end let us go quietly. Just after starting we met two
gendarmes, and afterwards two coastguards, but fortunately, they
asked no questions; so everything went well for some four or five
miles, except for the awful jolting of the cart, which exceeded
anything in the way of shaking you ever dreamt of. All of a sudden
the peasant who was driving the mule ran the cart against a great
stone, and sent us all flying into the road. I never saw such a
sprawling spill. Fortunately we were only shaken and dirty, but the
driver was much hurt, which served him right, and he groaned and
moaned terribly for the remainder of the journey; being a big fat
man, he had fallen heavily, and I should not be surprised if he had
since died.

At last, at one in the morning, we reached the house we were
looking for, and had a great business to awaken the people; nor did
we know how we should be received, arriving in so strange a manner.
The Englishman, however, was very good, took us in, gave us supper,
and we lay quiet until the evening of the following day, when we
slipped into the direct train for this place, which we reached
without further trouble. But what a thing it is to have an evil
conscience! I kept thinking that every station-master and gendarme
on the road scrutinised us unnecessarily; and what a trouble and
scandal it would have made if we had been arrested and put in
prison! However, all is well that ends well, and I had the delight
of finding an immense bundle of letters from you and others at the
post here. We had to buy shirts and socks and everything, for we
were without change of any kind; and what the hotel people here
thought of us I cannot imagine. But they were civil and made no
remark. Our quarters are very comfortable after the filth of
Messina, and I think that our journey was adventurous enough to
have taken place a hundred years ago.

I can quite understand the political situation, having read all you
and Curzon and Jennings wrote. For me it is not unsatisfactory; but
for the general Tory prospects it is most gloomy. What a fool Lord
S. was to let me go so easily!

Give Winston the enclosed Mexican stamp.

_To his Mother._

Naples: March 14, 1887.

I was very glad to get your letter of the 7th the day before
yesterday. We are very comfortable and happy here. The weather is
lovely and the hotel most comfortable.

We have heard nothing yet of our servants and luggage, and conclude
they are still at Messina, unable to get away. How fortunate it was
for us that we made the bolt we did! I have not seen anyone here I
know, except one of the FitzGeorges. We have been to the opera and
the circus; both very good. We amuse ourselves by contemplating
excursions to Pompeii and even Vesuvius; but we are both such lazy
sightseers that I doubt whether we shall ever go there. Sitting in
the gardens listening to the band, or driving along the coast, is
more our line.

I have just received a long and most interesting letter from
George. I cannot think for what political reasons anyone should
wish me to return; I could do no good. I make out from the papers
that since I left the Government the Estimates--Army and Navy,
supplementary and annual--have been reduced by over 700,000_l._ If
this is so, some friend in the House should proclaim it. If George
looks at two letters from Jackson[63] just after I went out, among
my papers, and at my speech on resignation, and compares them with
the Estimates actually produced, he will find out if I am right in
my supposition. He might ask Jackson, privately, as a friend, the
truth of the matter. You see, the Government have adopted my
suggestions as to the printed statements of Estimates and as to
Parliamentary Committee; so altogether my action is not unjustified
by events.

Smith seems to make a poor Leader as far as debate goes. He seems
to leave the management of procedure to Raikes and Ritchie and to
be unable to take any part himself. I think they were very foolish
to accept that amendment of Hartington’s; it makes them look more
than ever like a patronised and protected Government. Coercion will
be very difficult for them in view of the reported evidence of the
Cowper Commission. Many Tory M.P.s are pledged against Coercion,
and fear to lose their seats. Beach is a great loss to them in
respect of this question. However, all these things do not interest
me much. _Che sarà sarà._

I shall probably stop a few days in Paris, so as to let the House
rise for the Easter holidays, before I get back. I suppose I must
make a speech in Paddington in the holidays. George might ascertain
from Fardell what would be a good day.

How men may for a time prosper continually, whatever they do, and then for a time fail continually, whatever they do, is a theme in support of which history and romance supply innumerable examples. This chapter marks such a change in the character of the story I have to tell. Hitherto the life of Lord Randolph Churchill has been attended by almost unvarying success. His most powerful enemies had become his friends. His instinct when to strike and when to stay was unerring. Fortune seemed to shape circumstances to his moods. The forces which should have controlled him became obedient in his service. The frowns of age and authority melted at his advance, and rebuke and envy pursued him idly. All this was now to be changed. During the rest of his public life he encountered nothing but disappointment and failure. First, while his health lasted, the political situation was so unfavourable that, although his talents shone all the brighter, he could effect nothing. Then, when circumstances offered again a promising aspect, the physical apparatus broke down. When he had the strength, he had not the opportunity. When opportunity returned, strength had fled. So that at first, by sensible gradations, his political influence steadily diminished; and afterwards, by a more rapid progress, he declined to disease and death.

When a politician dwells upon the fact that he is thankful to be rid of public cares, and finds serene contentment in private life, it may usually be concluded that he is extremely unhappy. Although Lord Randolph’s letters to his mother, to give her pleasure, were written in a cheery and optimistic vein, there is no doubt that he felt very bitterly the sudden reversal of his fortunes and the arrest of his career. During this voyage, of which he gives so gay an account, he was afflicted by fits of profound depression and would often sit by himself for hours plunged in gloomy thought. And I think he had good reason to be dejected; for although he had parted from his colleagues under all guise of courtesy and good-will, he knew well that enormous barriers were building themselves against him, and that no talents, no services, no needs--short of the bluntest compulsion--would induce them to share their power with him.

Lord Randolph Churchill procured by his resignation almost every point of detail for which he had struggled in vain in the Cabinet. The reductions of 700,000_l._ in the Navy Estimates, which had been conceded to his insistence, were ratified and maintained by his successor. The Estimates for the Army, which had been declared utterly irreducible, were reduced by 170,000_l._ after his resignation. The Supplementary Estimate of 500,000_l._ for the defences of the Egyptian frontier, to which he had long demurred, was promptly rejected by Mr. Goschen as an unauthorised charge on British funds. He might therefore claim with perfect truth that he had saved the taxpayers 1,400,000_l._; and although our sense of financial proportion has been largely modified by time, this was considered in those days a not insignificant sum. It is not necessary here to examine the policy of these economies. It is sufficient that they were strongly resisted, in spite of his advocacy, while he was a member of the Government, and admitted on their merits after he had resigned.

The coaling stations--of such vital urgency in December 1886--were left untouched by additional expenditure until 1888, and strengthened then only to an inconsiderable extent. Seven coaling stations which figured in the estimates presented to Lord Randolph Churchill--namely, Halifax, Jamaica, St. Lucia, Esquimault, Ascension, Trincomalee and Sierra Leone, have been in the light of modern experience reduced (1905) by Conservative Ministers, the heirs of the Government of 1886, to ‘skeletons,’ on which no money is to be spent in peace time.

The objections which Lord Randolph had entertained to the Eastern policy which Lord Iddesleigh seemed inclined to pursue, were justified by Lord Salisbury’s action at the Foreign Office. All idea of interference in the internal affairs of the Balkan States vanished so completely from the minds of Conservative statesmen that it was held libellous to assert that it had ever existed; and the instructions that were sent by the new Foreign Minister to Sir William White, were of such a nature that Lord Randolph could say of them, ‘the English people may now be certain that they are not likely to be involved in any European struggle arising out of Bulgarian complications.’ The new Procedure rules, which he had been accused of forcing upon unwilling colleagues, were presented to Parliament unaltered; the Local Government Bill took the extensive form he had desired; the introduction of a Whig element into the Cabinet was secured; and the Dartford programme, for which he had been condemned as a Radical in disguise, became the prosperous and successful policy of the Conservative party. The spirit of the Administration and the aims which it pursued--at home, in Ireland, and abroad--in policy and in administration, were indeed widely different from those of any Government he would have guided; but in so far as the special points in conflict were concerned, Lord Randolph Churchill’s resignation was vindicated in the most definite and tangible manner by the actions of those who had most strenuously opposed him.

All this availed him nothing. Ministers in plenty had quitted English Governments before without dissociating themselves from the party to which they belonged; but whether their course was inspired by honest principle or dictated by unworthy motives, whether it was marked by support of their successors or by intrigues and assaults to procure their overthrow, scarcely one was more relentlessly assailed than Lord Randolph Churchill. Even more pertinent and remarkable than the resignation of Lord Palmerston in 1853 is the case of Lord Salisbury himself. The Derby-Disraeli Ministry was in 1867 in a minority in the House of Commons and their position was highly insecure. The question of Reform pressed upon them, urgent and inevitable. A failure to deal with it effectively, still more an attempt to shirk it, might have inflicted enduring injury upon the Conservative party. Lord Salisbury met the Bill with uncompromising opposition. When Mr. Disraeli stood firm, he immediately resigned--and not alone; for by his personal influence he carried with him both Lord Carnarvon and General Peel. In this crisis nothing but the determination of Disraeli sustained the Government. Yet Lord Salisbury by writings, by vigorous and even violent attacks, by co-operation in Parliament with Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Bright, did not hesitate to compass its defeat. And he was wrong! But how was he treated? His good faith was never challenged; his disinterested abandonment of great office was admired; his error was condoned. When Disraeli returned to power in 1874 he allowed no prejudice or consideration of former hostility to separate him from the man who had dubbed him a ‘political adventurer,’ and it was upon that association--stamped into the imagination of the people by the Congress of Berlin, that Lord Salisbury’s chief claim to leadership afterwards rested.

Why, then, was Lord Randolph Churchill so hardly used by the party which owed so much to his efforts up till the year 1887, and might have often been grateful for support, and more often still for silences, afterwards? Why was such unusual and uncompromising advantage taken of the false step he had made? No doubt much must be set down to the animosities he had excited; much to the alarm of a Cabinet at so impulsive and imperious a colleague; something to Lord Salisbury’s desire that the leadership of the House of Commons and all that might follow therefrom should be secured to Mr. Balfour. Perhaps, too, they felt less compunction in dealing with him than with an older man, and thought with Smith that all this was ‘only an incident in the life of a young politician’; that ten years later, or twenty years even, he might serve with his own contemporaries or lead a younger generation. Time would cool the blood of the Reformer, and the experience of adversity might temper an impatience born of extraordinary success. Little did they know how short was the span, or at what a cost in life and strength the immense exertions of the struggle had been made. That frail body, driven forward by its nervous energies, had all these last five years been at the utmost strain. Good fortune had sustained it; but disaster, obloquy and inaction now suddenly descended with crushing force, and the hurt was mortal.