J. M.—You have spoken just now of somebody as a thorough good tory. You know the saying that nobody is worth much who has not been a bit of a radical in his youth, and a bit of a tory in his fuller age.
Mr. G. (laughing)—Ah, I'm afraid that hits me rather hard. But for myself, I think I can truly put up all the change that has come into my politics into a sentence; I [pg 475]
Disenchantment A Mistake
was brought up to distrust and dislike liberty, I learned to believe in it. That is the key to all my changes.
J. M.—According to my observation, the change in my own generation is different. They have ceased either to trust or to distrust liberty, and have come to the mind that it matters little either way. Men are disenchanted. They have got what they wanted in the days of their youth, yet what of it, they ask? France has thrown off the Empire, but the statesmen of the republic are not a great breed. Italy has gained her unity, yet unity has not been followed by thrift, wisdom, or large increase of public virtue or happiness. America has purged herself of slavery, yet life in America is material, prosaic,—so say some of her own rarest sons. Don't think that I say all these things. But I know able and high-minded men who suffer from this disenchantment.
Mr. G.—Italy would have been very different if Cavour had only lived—and even Ricasoli. Men ought not to suffer from disenchantment. They ought to know that ideals in politics are never realised. And don't let us forget in eastern Europe the rescue in our time of some ten millions of men from the harrowing domination of the Turk. (On this he expatiated, and very justly, with much energy.)
We turned to our own country. Here he insisted that democracy had certainly not saved us from a distinct decline in the standard of public men.... Look at the whole conduct of opposition from '80 to '85—every principle was flung overboard, if they could manufacture a combination against the government. For all this deterioration one man and one man alone is responsible, Disraeli. He is the grand corrupter. He it was who sowed the seed.
J. M.—Ought not Palmerston to bear some share in this?
Mr. G.—No, no; Pam. had many strong and liberal convictions. On one subject Dizzy had them too—the Jews. There he was much more than rational, he was fanatical. He said once that Providence would deal good or ill fortune to nations, according as they dealt well or ill by the Jews. I remember once sitting next to John Russell when D. was [pg 476] making a speech on Jewish emancipation. “Look at him,” said J. R., “how manfully he sticks to it, tho' he knows that every word he says is gall and wormwood to every man who sits around him and behind him.” A curious irony, was it not, that it should have fallen to me to propose a motion for a memorial both to Pam. and Dizzy?
A superb scene upon the ocean, with a grand wind from the west. Mr. G. and I walked on the shore; he has a passion for tumultuous seas. I have never seen such huge masses of water shattering themselves among the rocks.