LORD STANLEY OF ALDERLEY.
In February, 1860, there came upon me that severe illness of which I have more than once spoken by anticipation; an illness which, commencing with forty-eight hours of nearly continuous insensibility,[219] not only confined me to my house and prostrated my bodily strength, but, what was far worse, rendered me for a long time quite incapable of any serious mental action, save by such spasmodic effort as was at once both painful and injurious for the present, and hazardous for the future. In short, I was compelled to be absent from duty, with but little exception, and that only under imperative necessity, for several months. Fondly believing that the peaceful state just spoken of would endure, I did not anticipate any very serious positive consequences from my absence, though, of course, I knew it must delay the progress of improvement. Circumstances, however, proved untoward. Lurking discontent was fanned into a flame by a breath from without; and this, occurring during my disability—no accidental coincidence, as I believe—gave opportunity for the revival of those cabals, higher up in the office, which had so frequently interfered with good order, and made improvement difficult. At this critical period the office of Postmaster-General unfortunately became vacant, by the appointment of Lord Elgin to the direction of our expedition to China, and for a time there was a sort of interregnum, during which the duties of the office were provisionally discharged by the Duke of Argyll, who, however, had at the same time other demands on his attention. When, at length, a permanent appointment was made, in the person of Lord Stanley of Alderley, I had not the good fortune to obtain from him that confidence and support which I had enjoyed with his predecessors. I will not now dwell upon what followed. The facts are upon record, and the time may come when it will be proper that they should appear. Let it suffice for the present to say that I had to oppose a fourth cabal, occurring, like its predecessors, at a period of temporary weakness on my part; had again—and now without the support from the head of the department which I had previously received—to enter into contests—contests ever increasing in severity, which I had no longer the strength to maintain; and that, after a series of fruitless efforts, I found my health so grievously and hopelessly impaired as to compel me seriously to consider the question of final retirement from that important and almost absorbing task in which I had so long been engaged.
Before proceeding, however, to the concluding part of my narrative I must give some account of the improvements effected in the interim. Of course, in a period of such difficulty the progress of improvement was comparatively slow; and though the Department continued steadily to advance in its fiscal results, and in its beneficial effects on public convenience, this was due in a much higher degree to past reforms than to changes made at the time.
It is due, however, to Mr. Gladstone, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, to state that during these contests I had the advantage of his support and countenance so far as he was able to exercise independent action, and I received from him the following very gratifying letter:—
“11, Downing Street,
“Whitehall, Jan. 24, 1861.
“Dear Sir R. Hill,—I have read your completed Minute, and though I am to see you to-morrow, I must, without waiting, say I have read it with a deep sense of pain, and some of shame, in reviewing what has happened.
“If you are at present under odium for the gallant stand you make on behalf of the public interests, at a period too when chivalry of that kind by no means ‘pays,’ I believe that I have and I hope still to have, the honour of sharing it with you.
“I hope you have sent your Minute to the Duke of Argyll.
“I am very thankful that you are once more at your post, and remain,
“Most truly yours,
“W. E. Gladstone.”