Chapter XXI: The Parnell Commission (2)

It was very pleasant on waking up this morning to find a bundle of
letters from you and others. They were brought down the river by
one of Cook’s steamers from Luxor, where we shall arrive in about
an hour.... We have been eight days on the journey from Assiout,
as, except for two days, the wind has not been favourable and our
steam launch is not strong enough to tow us more than about three
miles an hour. I cannot tell you how pleasant it has been; one day
more perfect than another, and yet the heat has never been
oppressive. The days slip by as if they were hours. The newspapers
came to hand at Assiout--though newspapers here seem to be
superfluities--and I was able to read up all the news to the
13th.... It certainly looks as if the Government had been
immeasurably strengthened and would require no help from anyone.
But all these things concern me very little. We are enjoying
ourselves immensely. Life on the Nile is ideal. The scenery would
be monotonous if it were not on so vast a scale; but as it is, one
never tires of it. Certainly this is the only place to pass the
winter if fine warm weather is desired.... I must say I wish you
were on board this boat--a week of this weather and rest would make
you as strong as a horse. Perhaps next winter, if we are alive and
well, we may do it together....

_From a drawing by John S. Sargent, R.A._]

[Sidenote: 1891 ÆT. 41]

Dahabeah, Ammon Ra, Denderah: January 6, 1891.

I can, I fear, ill repay you for your very interesting letter of
the 24th. All I can say is that it was thoroughly appreciated. I
have little or nothing to tell you. A life without incident and
without emotion has many advantages; but does not lend itself to
correspondence, either as regards energy or material. I have seen
Philæ and the Cataract, as also the temples of Edfoo and of this
place--most interesting. Also a long expedition from Luxor to the
tombs of the kings, some four thousand years old. Each king must
have passed his lifetime in making his tomb, and if it was not
finished when he died he had to go without. The weather has been
perfect--day after day of cloudless skies, cool breezes and
unparalleled sunsets. We read, we smoke, we lounge, we play
picquet--at which I continue to hold exceedingly indifferent
cards.... We shall dawdle out our time here as much as possible, as
we do not want to be more than a day in Cairo.

To Sir Henry James, who wrote him accounts of the strange developments at Westminster, he framed a more elaborate reply than was usual with him in private correspondence:--

Dahabea, ‘Ammon Ra.’ Edfu, 60 miles south of Luxor: Jan. 3, 1891.

Your amiable and friendly letter reached me here this morning on my
return from a visit to and prolonged study of a temple erected by
the Ptolemies 250 B.C. It is ridiculously modern compared with
Karnac, but its comparatively perfect state enables one usefully to
imagine what Karnac was. In such a frame of mind, embracing a
period of 10,000 years, your home politics, your House of Commons
interests, the eloquence of Smith, the courage of Balfour, the
honesty of Hartington, the financial genius of Goschen and the
adroitness of Joe, all acted upon, stimulated and developed by the
lax morals of Parnell, present themselves to my mental optics much
in the same manner as fleas may attract the notice of an elephant.
I am living with Rameses, Thotmes and Seti, and I have despised the
Ptolemies as parvenus, and Cleopatra as ----! Imagine therefore how
infinitely little becomes the struggle of the Kilkenny factions,
the senile drivellings of Mr. Gladstone on Ravenswood which you
think worthy of mention, the remorse of the officeless Harcourt or
the doubting gloom of Morley. Here on this placid expanse of
limitless plain and river and among these Egyptian temples you
appear to me, as I say, like performing fleas. I was once a flea
like you and skipped as nimbly as any of you, but have by some
Pythagorean process emerged from that abject condition, and prefer
musings over an immense past to worryings over a little present.

In addition to the attractions of this country and of its historic
associations, we have and enjoy ideal weather, perfect peace,
absence of all noise and a floating domicile in all respects
comfortable; good food, hock, champagne, Pilsener beer, Marquis
chocolate, ripe bananas, fresh dates, and literally hundreds of
French novels, recourse to which is interrupted by games of
picquet, in which the lucky Harry T[yrrwhit] has gained of me
10,000 1_d._ points. French novels, cards and Egyptian temples
assimilate pleasantly, but English newspapers and English news are
out of tune with these surroundings. And what pleases me most in
your letter is the reflection to which it gives rise, that I still
exist in the memory of a friend.

This is the part of the world in which you must pass your next
winter. This heavenly climate will tame the most ferocious gout and
tranquillise the most irritated nerves. If all is well, I will
conduct you here next winter, introduce to you my friends Rameses &
Co., forbid you the acquaintance of the vulgar Ptolemies, and gain
from you 10,000 1_d._ points at picquet.

We have reached our Southern limit at Assouan, and are now
leisurely floating down the current back to Cairo, back to noise,
back to cold, back to tiresome women, back to _Times_ leading
articles, all inventions of the devil from which Providence has
preserved the waters of the Nile....

I do not think I have ever experienced so pleasant a time as during
the last three weeks. I have arrived at the condition of the true
philosopher; nerves calm, health good, everything to please the eye
and the mind. The past affords matter for agreeable reflection. The
future appears without vexation. I can inform myself with interest
but without emotions either of pleasure or displeasure of the good
or evil fortunes of my enemies or my friends, and I please myself
with the imagination that if I were to die to-morrow, I should have
experienced and exhausted, prudently abandoning before satiation,
every form of human excitement. This is what you can come to if you
spend your next winter in Egypt; and it is to repay you for your
letter that I thus lengthily suggest to you the prospect of
obtaining at least six weeks of happiness and peace in the year of
our Lord 1891.

[Sidenote: 1887-1890]

It is instructive to notice that Lord Randolph’s conduct during the years that followed his resignation will bear a far more exacting scrutiny than the years of his good fortune. Differing as he did on many questions from the Government, separated from them by the personal dislike or distrust with which he was regarded, he had nevertheless given them, so far as he conscientiously could, a loyal and regular support. He had never spoken against them except when compelled by opinions plainly declared in former years, or moved by deep feeling; and then he had always practised a moderation in tone and language foreign to his disposition. He had done nothing to embarrass them or hamper them. He had never made a personal attack on any of his late colleagues, nor can I discover any unkind or acrimonious word used about them. From time to time he had tried to influence their policy in directions which he believed the public interest and their own equally required; but these occasions had been rare and he had usually been right. Although the object of much abuse and even hatred from his old friends, he nourished no thoughts of permanent separation. ‘Born and bred,’ he wrote in 1891, ‘in the Conservative party, I could never join the ranks of their opponents.’ ‘I have always been,’ he told his constituents (February 22, 1891), ‘more or less of an independent member. From the year 1874, when I entered Parliament, to the year 1880--during the time of Lord Beaconsfield’s Government--I felt it my duty on more than one occasion to vote and speak against that powerful Government, and at times when in certain circles in London even to whisper a doubt as to its wisdom was considered almost treasonable. From 1880 to 1885 I pursued a course in Parliament of the greatest freedom and independence. More than once I went my own way, not caring much whether anyone followed; but I hardly think there are those who will assert that my action from 1880 to 1885 did injury to the Tory party. I have been unable even of late years to divest myself of my independent character. Lord Melbourne--or was it Lord Palmerston?--once characterised an independent member of Parliament as a member who could not be depended upon. Well, this much is certain. If I am called upon to support a reactionary and antiquated policy, then I am not to be depended upon. If I am called upon to approve illiberal or sham legislation, then I am not to be depended upon. If I am called upon to support an aggressive policy or a policy of large expenditure, then I am not to be depended upon. But if I am called upon to abide by pledges I have given on any platform or in any published letter or to support the political principles I have advocated, since I entered Parliament, then I can confidently point out to you my past career as a proof that I am to be depended upon--more, perhaps, than any devoted partisan of the present Government.’

These were the best years of his intellectual power--a short summer when his mind was most fertile and his judgment ripe and prescient. Almost alone and unsupported he had by sheer personal force and persuasive speech commanded respect and procured important decisions. Grave or gay, in attack, defence, or exposition, on all sorts of subjects and in all sorts of humours, the House of Commons had delighted to hear him; and what he said in Parliament or out of doors, whether about politics or other matters, was received and examined with national attention. But let it be observed that Lord Randolph Churchill was beaten, whatever he did, when he played the national game; and was victorious, whatever he did, while he played the party game. No question of ‘taste’ or ‘patriotism’ was raised when what he said, however outrageous, suited his party. No claim of truth counted when what he said, however incontrovertible, was awkward for his party. Yet almost fiercely he asserted his loyalty to the Unionist cause.

‘It was not difficult for me to notice,’ he wrote in 1891, in a letter to his constituents, never published, ‘that after power was assured to the Tory leaders for some years by the General Election of 1886, it was their intention to stand on the old ways of Toryism in respect to Ireland, foreign policy and expenditure. Then I went away from them. On three occasions since during the last long five years have I gone against them: (1) When they threatened to recommence the policy of military expenditure in the Soudan; (2) when in 1888 the present Leader of the House of Commons, then Chief Secretary, ridiculed and denounced in the House the demand of the Irish members for Local Self-government; (3) when in 1890 I declared against the iniquitous and infamous policy of the Parnell Commission. With these three exceptions I often supported the Government by speech and vote in Parliament; I even spoke and voted in favour of their Coercion Bill in 1887, though I was much startled and disquieted afterwards by the manner of its administration; and in 1887, 1888, and 1889 I addressed large public meetings in their support. For the rest of the time, when I disagreed and doubted--as was often the case--I stood aloof and held my peace; and you must well remember that on more than one occasion in past sessions this strong Government and party managed to get themselves into the sorest straits, and that opportunities were offered of paying off some old scores which, if personal considerations had influenced me, I should not have neglected and which, I expect, not many politicians would have allowed to pass by. Bear this in mind, I pray you, in common justice when you hear me freely accused--as I have often been, and shall be again--of disloyalty to the Tory or the Unionist party; contrast the line of action I have followed with action followed in former Parliaments towards former Governments by former out-going Ministers; and I call upon you to acquit me fully of any charge of disloyalty.’

It had been proved to utter conviction in those barren years that ‘ten men armed can subdue one man in his shirt.’ One friend after another had fallen away from Lord Randolph. The hostility of the Prime Minister and the tireless machine-like detraction of the party press had not been without effect. His Parliamentary position was one of complete isolation and his popularity in the country had declined. Others--scarcely heard of in the days of battle--were now bearing the burden of the Unionist cause, and the public eye was fixed upon a stout-hearted bookseller whose perseverance as Leader was making of his repeated failures a curious but undoubted success, and upon an Irish Secretary whose reputation was every day enhanced by the taunts and revilings he provoked from his opponents. The Minister who seemed so powerful in 1886, the people’s favourite, the necessary Parliamentarian, the central link of the Unionist alliance, certainly its most redoubtable champion, stood outside all political combinations, actual or potential. The Government of such a sickly infancy was grown up into a strong, if not a healthy manhood. The sunrise of wealth and extending comfort which in every nation lighted up the last quarter of the nineteenth century was strengthening by an unseen yet irresistible process the forces upon which Conservatism depends; and the millstone of Home Rule bowed and strangled the Liberals. There was neither need nor place for a leader of Tory Democracy.

All this was perfectly appreciated by Lord Randolph Churchill, and his detached contented mood and habit of thought were carefully and laboriously assumed and fortified by every trick of mental discipline he knew. A studied disdain of the course of public events, the influence of movement and of changing scenes, the delights of summer-lands, books, friends and mild Egyptian cigarettes--all were to him the incidents of an elaborate art. But the characters of valetudinarian, pleasure-seeker, traveller, sportsman, failed to satisfy, and served scarcely to distract. Always at hand, though forbidden his mind, lurked the hopes and the schemes, once so real, now turned to shadows: and the thought--never quite to be chased away--of that multitude of working people he knew so well, who had trusted him as their champion; who were still ready, if they knew how, to do him honour; but for whom--though their problems were still unsolved, uncared for, or cared for only as counters in the game of politics--it was beyond his power to do the smallest service. And although the great river, gliding impassively along by the sands of the desert and the temples of forsaken faiths, might seem to smile at fretful aspirations, the reproach and disappointment silently consumed him.

* * * * *

Further and further afield! After the session of 1890 Lord Randolph Churchill abandoned the House of Commons. He attended seldom; he never spoke. In the summer of 1891 he sailed for South Africa in quest of sport and gold--and peace. A journey to Mashonaland was in those days an enterprise of some difficulty; nor, indeed, before the overthrow of the Matabele power, devoid of risk. Elaborate arrangements were required to conduct even a small party in comfort through these untrodden fields. The command of the miniature expedition was entrusted to Major Giles, a traveller well acquainted with the country. As killing game was a necessity as well as an amusement, one of the best hunters in South Africa, Hans Lee, was included in the party; and Mr. Perkins, a mining engineer of the highest eminence, was engaged to search for gold.

The interest with which Lord Randolph was regarded by the public had survived his popularity and all these preparations excited general curiosity and afforded fertile themes for comment and satire. He was persuaded to write a long series of letters for the _Daily Graphic_ by the extraordinary offer of a hundred pounds for each letter. Every incident of his journey, even the most trivial, especially the most personal that could be discovered, was telegraphed to England by assiduous reporters and discussed with genial malice by the Conservative newspapers. He was burlesqued on the Gaiety stage with a wit so pointed that the song was stopped by the intervention of the Lord Chamberlain. While paragraphs, lampoons and caricatures exhibited him daily to the ridicule of his countrymen; while the delegates of the National Union hooted his name at their annual conference; and while the chiefs of the Tories complacently admired the fulness of their triumph, the ex-Minister plunged into vast solitudes. Across the veldt by bush and kloof and kopje, through the drifts of flooded rivers, by mining camps and frontier posts into magnificent wildernesses toiled the tiny caravan. A gust of bracing air and rough exertion breaks in upon the artificial ventilation of the House of Commons. The crowded benches, with the yellow light streaming down upon them from the ceiling, recede into the distance. Waggons creak and jolt along stony tracks, camp-fires twinkle in the waste, antelope gallop over spacious pastures, lions roar beneath the stars----

All this has been described by Lord Randolph Churchill himself in the book in which his published letters were finally compiled.[74] I will not tell a twice-told tale. It was not perhaps surprising that a relentless criticism should have denied to these productions all title to literary merit. Their commercial value consisted mainly in the personality of the writer; and that personality was the object of powerful and widespread prejudice. The extravagant price paid for them was an incitement to every sharp pen less generously rewarded. The letters themselves make no pretence to elegance. Here and there a touch of quaint humour, a caustic or jingling phrase, or a rhetorical passage--but for the most part they tell a plain story of sport and travel, as such stories have often been told before.

One extract shall suffice:--

We were riding along through a small open glade covered with high
grass, Lee a few yards ahead of me, when I suddenly saw him turn
round, cry out something to me, and point with his finger ahead. I
looked, and saw lolloping along through and over the grass, about
forty yards off, a yellow animal about as big as a small bullock.
It flashed across me that it was a lion--the last thing in the
world that I was thinking of. I was going to dismount and take aim,
for I was not frightened at the idea of firing at a retreating
lion; but Lee called out in succession five or six times, ‘Look,
look!’ at the same time pointing with his finger in different
directions in front. I saw to my astonishment, and rather to my
dismay, that the glade appeared to be alive with lions. There they
were, trooping and trotting along ahead of us like a lot of
enormous dogs, great yellow objects, offering such a sight as I had
never dreamed of. Lee turned to me and said, ‘What will you do?’ I
said, ‘I suppose we must go after them,’ thinking all the time that
I was making a very foolish answer. This I am the more convinced of
now, for Lee told me afterwards that many old hunters in South
Africa will turn away from such a troupe of lions as we had before
us. We trotted on after them a short distance to where the grass
was more open, the lions trotting along ahead of us in the most
composed and leisurely fashion, very different from the
galloping-off of a surprised and startled antelope. Lee now
dismounted and fired at a lion about fifty yards off. I saw the
brute fall forward on his head, twist round and round and stagger
into a patch of high grass slightly to the left of where I was
riding.

I did not venture to dismount with such a lot of these brutes all
around ahead of me, not feeling at all sure that I should be able
to remount quickly enough and gallop away after shooting. My horse,
untrained to the gun, would not allow me to fire from his back and
would probably have thrown me off had I done so. I stuck close to
Lee, determined to leave the shooting to him unless things became
critical, as his aim was true. His nerves were steady, which was
more than mine were, though I do not admit that I was at all
frightened. I counted seven lions; Lee says there were more. I saw,
and cried out to Lee, pointing to a great big fellow with a heavy
black mane trotting along slightly ahead of the rest. He was just
crossing a small spruit about one hundred yards ahead and as he
climbed the opposite bank offered his hind quarters as a fair
target. Lee fired at him, at which he quickened his pace and
disappeared in front. We approached the spruit and, almost
literally under my nose, I saw three lions tumble up out of it,
climb the opposite side and disappear. Now I own I longed for my
shooting pony Charlie, for they offered me splendid shots, quite
close, such as I could hardly have missed. I raised my rifle to
take aim at the last; but, perhaps fortunately for me, he
disappeared, before I could fire, in the high grass on the other
side. I saw Lee fire from his horse at one as it was climbing the
bank, which he wounded badly. It retreated into a patch of thick
grass the other side of the spruit, uttering sounds something
between a growl, a grunt and a sob.

Mashonaland yielded no golden results to the practised eye of Mr. Perkins; and it was not until the expedition had returned to Johannesburg that he unfolded his novel theory of deep levels. At this time the outcrop of the Great Banket reef was the only gold area which was being worked. Mr. Perkins observed the slant at which the strata emerged from the upper soil. He calculated accordingly. He advised the purchase of farms and properties along the south side of the ridge. By striking down directly into the earth the Great Banket reef would again be overtaken--richer perhaps than ever before. Lord Randolph Churchill must have stood at this time very close to an almost immeasurable fortune. Such a vital thought could not, however, remain secret--was already occurring to other minds. But the investments which he made were not inconsiderable or ill-judged, and were sold at his death for upwards of 70,000_l._

While such business and adventure occupied his mind the leadership of the House of Commons fell vacant. Mr. Smith’s heavy task was at an end. For two sessions he had struggled against ever-increasing physical distresses. Hour after hour he had sat on his Bench with his rug across his knees--a pathetic and not unheroic figure. Night after night he had risen in his place to discharge in singularly bad speeches his duty--as he would have phrased it--to ‘Queen and country.’ Now he was gone, and Lord Salisbury made haste to appoint Mr. Balfour in his stead. His selection was almost universally applauded.

_Lord Randolph Churchill to his Wife._

Mafeking, November 23, 1891.

So Arthur Balfour is really leader--and Tory Democracy, the genuine
article, at an end! Well, I have had quite enough of it all. I have
waited with great patience for the tide to turn, but it has not
turned, and will not now turn in time. In truth, I am now
altogether _déconsidéré_. I feel sure the other party will come in
at the next election. The South Molton election is another among
many indications. No power will make me lift hand or foot or voice
for the Tories, just as no power would make me join the other side.
All confirms me in my decision to have done with politics and try
to make a little money for the boys and for ourselves. I hope you
do not all intend to worry me on this matter and dispute with me
and contradict me. More than two-thirds, in all probability, of my
life is over, and I will not spend the remainder of my years in
beating my head against a stone wall. I expect I have made great
mistakes; but there has been no consideration, no indulgence, no
memory or gratitude--nothing but spite, malice and abuse. I am
quite tired and dead-sick of it all, and will not continue
political life any longer. I have not Parnell’s dogged, but at the
same time sinister, resolution; and have many things and many
friends to make me happy, without that horrid House of Commons work
and strife. After all, A. B. cannot beat my record; and it was I
who got him first into the Government, and then into the Cabinet.
This he and Lord S. know well.... It is so pleasant getting near
home again. I have had a good time (out here), but now reproach
myself for having left you all for so long, and am dying to be
again at Connaught Place.

* * * * *