Memoirs of Sir Wemyss Reid 1842-1885

by T. Wemyss Reid

It was in 1881 that Forster became the target of the missiles of that section of the Liberal party which in those days followed Mr. Chamberlain. Mr. Chamberlain's followers were naturally anxious that their hero should arrive at the summit of his ambition, and Mr. Forster was the man who stood most directly in his path. I do not wish to allege that there were not real differences of opinion between Mr. Forster and Mr. Chamberlain, though when one remembers the subsequent history of the latter it is difficult to understand his constant antagonism to Forster, the founder of the Imperial Federation movement, and the first Liberal Imperialist. But whatever his motives might be, Mr. Chamberlain's dislike of Forster was obvious to everyone. He had powerful means of making that dislike felt. The caucus in those days was absolutely under his thumb, and at a sign from him more than half the Liberal Associations in the country were inclined to pass any resolution that he was pleased to suggest to them. The Pall Mall Gazette became virtually his mouthpiece, and one read it as much in those days to ascertain the thoughts of Mr. Chamberlain as those of its distinguished editor. In the Cabinet he had secured one or two valuable allies, over whom, by virtue of his great abilities, he exercised an extraordinary influence. In the House of Commons the most active wing of the Radical Party was, with certain notable exceptions, devoted to him. He was the man to whom they looked as their leader, and as the future chief of a Radical Administration.

In the winter of 1881-2 all the forces controlled by the caucus were employed in the work of disparaging and weakening Mr. Forster. The latter was engaged in his almost hopeless struggle with the disaffected classes in Ireland—in other words, with four-fifths of the nation. I have told elsewhere the story of Mr. Forster's public career, and it is not necessary that I should enter into any defence of his Irish administration here. But this I must say, that at a time when he was beset with difficulties of the most formidable and distressing kind, and when he had a right to expect the loyal support at least of his own colleagues in the Cabinet, he found himself exposed to intrigues and cruel side-attacks that still further embarrassed him, and that fatally weakened his hands. As the winter passed the storm artificially raised against him increased in violence. All the animosities of Birmingham were let loose upon his head. The old cries of trimmer and traitor were again raised against him. The Liberal Press, with hardly an exception, took its cue from the Pall Mall Gazette, whilst the organs of the Conservative party naturally felt under no obligation to defend him from the misrepresentations and innuendoes of his formidable foes in his own party.

I do not think I exaggerate when I say that it was only in the columns of the Leeds Mercury that he was consistently and steadily defended. It was a labour of love on my part thus to stand by a man for whom I entertained so great and affectionate an admiration, and who was, as I conceived, being so cruelly ill-treated by those of the same political household as himself. It was said at the time that Forster inspired the Leeds Mercury, and that the articles defending him which I published were really written by himself. In the interests of honourable journalism, and of Mr. Forster's reputation, I must state the actual facts. I was, as I have already said, on terms of personal friendship with him, and I was in the fullest sympathy with his Irish policy; but from the moment when he became Chief Secretary until he retired from that office, Forster held no communication with me, either direct or indirect. I never saw him, and he never wrote to me, nor did I address a single word to him. This was characteristic of Forster's high sense of public duty. He was too proud and too high-spirited to try to enlist any man's sympathies, or to secure any newspaper advocacy. Men spoke of him as a clever wire-puller who could manufacture a spurious public sentiment in his own favour. How little they knew him! If he had chosen to resort to those arts with which his assailants were so familiar he might have won the support of many tongues and pens. He preferred, then as always in his public career, to devote himself with a single-minded purpose to the performance of his duty, leaving the consequences to take care of themselves. It was in this way that it came to pass that his only defender in the Press in those dark and troublous days was a little-known journalist in Yorkshire.

For my part, I look back with pride and deep satisfaction to the line which I then took, and from which I never swerved. It was not a successful line. Mr. Forster's enemies were too powerful for him, and, as everybody knows, he became their victim. But there are better things in this world than success, and I am more content to have been Forster's associate in his unmerited fall than I would have been to share in the personal triumph which Mr. Chamberlain gained over him. Although complaint was made, when my "Life" of Forster appeared, that I had made too full a revelation of Cabinet secrets, the fact remains that a good deal of truth has still to come out with regard to his resignation of office in 1882. I do not propose to lift the veil here, but it is well known that an ingenious trap was laid for him, and that, with characteristic confidence in the good faith of his fellow-men, he walked unsuspectingly into it. His resignation, it will be remembered, was due to his refusal to accept as satisfactory a letter written by Mr. Parnell, in which he undertook, if he were released from Kilmainham, to give certain assistance to the Government in putting down outrages in Ireland. Forster would willingly have accepted Mr. Parnell's word as a gentleman that he would exert himself to this end, but he was not prepared to accept the skilfully framed words in which Mr. Parnell sought to convey the impression that was desired whilst avoiding all personal responsibility in the matter. Those who wish to know how Mr. Forster was jockeyed out of office must learn the history of Parnell's letter, and how and by whom the sentences were devised which seemed acceptable to the sanguine temperament of Mr. Gladstone, but which Forster, with his closer knowledge of the situation, regarded as wholly unsatisfactory. The time has not yet come for the story to be told, but when the precise facts are revealed they will be found to throw a curious light upon this episode.

Forster's resignation was a great personal blow to me. It was a blow also both to his personal friends and admirers in Yorkshire, and to a large section of politicians who knew him to be an upright and single-minded man, struggling with all his might to maintain order in Ireland and to preserve the unity of the United Kingdom. There was, however, one further step that was possible that would have immeasurably increased our mortification. This was the appointment of Mr. Chamberlain as Forster's successor. Mr. Chamberlain's friends confidently expected that the appointment would be made, and for a day or two it seemed certain that this would be the case. I saw a member of the Government who was the confidential friend of Mr. Gladstone, and told him that if Mr. Chamberlain were to be appointed, the Leeds Mercury, and all whom it could influence in Yorkshire would at once enter upon a most strenuous and thorough-going opposition to the new Irish policy. I was told in reply that, whatever Mr. Chamberlain himself might have expected, Mr. Gladstone had not for a single moment contemplated his appointment to the vacant post, and that his choice had fallen in another quarter.

The Leeds Liberal Club resolved to invite Forster to a complimentary dinner, in order that he might have the assurance that there was one great city, at least, in which he retained the confidence and gratitude of his party. I wrote to Forster to convey this intimation to him, and had a reply, in which he asked me to meet him in London. On Friday, May 6th, 1882, the appointment of Lord Frederick Cavendish as Irish Secretary was announced in Parliament, and the writ moved for his re-election after taking office. The next night, about 11 o'clock, I was sitting in the morning-room at the Reform Club, talking to the late Mr. William Summers, then member for Huddersfield. There were but few men in the room, though amongst those few were one or two Irish members, including Mr. Shaw, who had been Chairman of the Home Rule party in the House of Commons until he was superseded by Mr. Parnell. We had all been reading the telegrams on the board in the hall announcing the enthusiastic reception of the new Lord Lieutenant, Earl Spencer, and the new Secretary, Lord Frederick Cavendish, in Dublin. I was discussing with Summers the meaning of the new departure and of the success of Forster's assailants, when the old hall-porter of the club burst into the room, and in a state of great agitation announced to us that a message had been received at the Carlton Club stating that the Lord Lieutenant and the Chief Secretary had been assassinated. I cannot describe the mingled amazement, horror, and incredulity with which the news was received, but I remember well the extreme distress shown by Mr. Shaw and the other Irish members. "This is the end of Ireland!" cried Mr. Shaw, with tears in his eyes. For some time most of us steadily refused to believe the story, for no authentic news could be gathered respecting it; but, as time passed, the Reform Club was besieged with inquiries from the other clubs in Pall Mall, the members of which naturally supposed that authentic news would be procurable at the Ministerial club. At last someone came in who had been at Lord Frederick's house in Carlton House Terrace, and he brought the dreaded confirmation of the story. The Lord Lieutenant, it is true, had not been attacked, but Lord Frederick had been killed, and with him Mr. Burke, the Under-Secretary. A shudder ran through the crowd when we were told that the vile deed had been done with knives.

Inside the club there was now a large assemblage of members, although it was past midnight. Men came into the club, too, on that eventful night who were not members, but who were moved by an irrepressible anxiety to learn the truth as to what had happened. Among these I remember Abraham Hayward, Q.C., the essayist and Society rattle, who, characteristically enough, proclaimed to us all the fact that the gentleman who accompanied him was my Lord So-and-so. But it was outside the club that I witnessed the most extraordinary scene I ever saw in London. Rumours of the tragedy had spread through the clubs, but the tidings had not reached the streets. The clubs, as by a common impulse, emptied themselves, and the members with one accord flocked to the Reform. On the broad pavement in Pall Mall some hundreds of men, nearly all in evening dress, were clustered together, discussing in low tones the horrible event, of which, as yet, the details were wholly unknown. On the roadway a hundred cabs were gathered, their drivers evidently bewildered by the unwonted spectacle, and wondering what had brought together in the stillness of the early Sunday morning this unwonted crowd.

Suddenly, as I looked upon the scene from the steps of the club, I saw the crowd fall back on either hand, opening a narrow lane through it. Along this lane, with bent head, came Lord Hartington, brother of one of the murdered men, passing from the newly-made house of mourning in Carlton House Terrace to his home at Devonshire House. No one ventured to speak to him, but every hat was lifted in token of silent sympathy. It was a memorable, never-to-be-forgotten night. Years afterwards I heard from Sir William Harcourt himself an account of how the news first reached London. There was a big Ministerial dinner party, if I remember rightly, at Lord Northbrook's; Mr. Gladstone was there, and so was Sir William Harcourt, then Home Secretary. Dinner was nearly over when Mr. (now Sir) Howard Vincent, who at that time held a high post at Scotland Yard, arrived and demanded an immediate interview with the Home Secretary. To Sir William he showed the official telegram that had just been received, all other messages having been stopped by the authorities in Dublin. It was decided, after a consultation, that nothing was to be said until the ladies had left the dinner table, and that then the news was to be broken to Mr. Gladstone, who, apart from all other reasons for feeling the tragedy, had the additional one of a close relationship with Lady Frederick Cavendish. Mr. Gladstone, though deeply moved, was then, as always, master of his emotions, and it was he who at once went to Carlton House Terrace to break the dreadful tidings to his niece, Mrs. Gladstone accompanying him on the errand.

There was little sleep that night for any of us who had heard the news before retiring to rest. The next day was such a Sunday as I never remember to have seen in London before or since. The newspapers spread the tidings far and wide. In numberless cases men first learned the news as they were going to church. They turned aside in scores, and hurried down to Pall Mall to learn the latest particulars of a tragedy that was instantly recognised as being one that affected the nation as a whole. From early morning until late at night the fine hall of the Reform Club was crowded with members, and with friends who came to inquire for further news. In the forenoon a strange thing happened. Mr. Forster, the man whose life the villains who struck down Lord Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Burke had chiefly sought, and who had passed through perils so terrible that even now the recollection of them raises a shudder, came into the club. He was besieged at once by a host of members, but breaking away from them, he came to me, and taking me by the arm, led me to one of the seats in the hall. Instantly, and as it seemed instinctively, the great crowd of men formed in a semicircle around us, out of earshot, but gazing with wondering and sympathetic eyes upon the man who had escaped so cruel a fate.

I remember the first words that Forster spoke to me. "They may say what they like," he said, "but it is Mr. Parnell who has done this. He is the man who sowed the seed of which this is the fruit." And then he talked of the victims, of Lord Frederick, so gentle, kindly, honourable in all the relations of life, and of Burke, "the most loyal man," he declared, "who ever served the Crown." Indeed, at the moment he seemed to feel the death of poor Burke more acutely than that of Lord Frederick, and he was full of the idea that if he himself had been in Ireland the lives of both would have been saved. "I shall go back to Ireland," he said to me presently. "They must want someone to manage pressing affairs, and I shall tell Mr. Gladstone that I am at his service." He went straight from the club to Downing Street, and saw Mr. Gladstone—who, unlike most other men in London, had been to church that morning. He made the offer, one in every respect noble and magnanimous as well as courageous; but it was not accepted. The bitterness of party passion which had been aroused by the events that culminated in his own resignation had not yet sufficiently subsided to render such a step possible, and Forster, to my keen regret, was not permitted to have this fresh opportunity of showing that unfailing fearlessness in the face of danger which was one of his most eminent characteristics.