Believe me, I pray you, that it is not niggardly cheese-paring or Treasury crabbedness, but only considerations of high state policy which compel me to sever ties in many ways most binding and pleasant.
A careful and continuous examination and study of national finance, of the startling growth of expenditure, of national taxation resources and endurance, has brought me to the conclusion from which nothing can turn me, that it is only the sacrifice of a Chancellor of the Exchequer upon the altar of thrift and economy which can rouse the people to take stock of their leaders, their position and their future.
The character of the domestic legislation which the Government contemplate in my opinion falls sadly short of what the Parliament and the country expect and require. The foreign policy which is being adopted appears to me at once dangerous and methodless; but I take my stand on expenditure and finance, which involve and determine all other matters. And reviewing my former public declarations on this question and having no reason to doubt their soundness, I take leave of your Government, and especially of yourself, with profound regret, but without doubt or hesitation.
Yours most sincerely,
Randolph S. Churchill.
After writing this letter he went down to the Times office, imparted his priceless information to Mr. Buckle, authorised him to make it public, and so to bed. Lord Salisbury received this second letter at half-past one in the morning of the 23rd, and realised that the breach was definite. He posted the news at once to the Queen; but he was already too late. With the first light of the morning the announcement appeared in the Times.
This action of Lord Randolph Churchill in resigning the office he held in such a manner and on such an occasion has two aspects—a smaller and a larger. Both are partly true: neither by itself is comprehensive. The smaller aspect is that of a proud, sincere, overstrained man conceiving himself bound to fight certain issues, at whatever cost to himself—believing at each movement that victory would be won, and drawn by every movement further into a position from which he could not or would not retreat. The larger aspect deserves somewhat longer consideration. The differences between the Chancellor of the Exchequer and his colleagues were matters of detail and might easily have been compacted. The difference between the Leader of the House of Commons and the Prime Minister was fundamental. It must be plain to the reader who has persevered so far. It glows through the correspondence included in this chapter. It was a difference of belief, of character, of aspiration—and by nothing could it ever have been adjusted. There were many considerations and influences which worked powerfully for their agreement. In the Union they found a common cause; in Mr. Gladstone they faced a common antagonist. Lord Randolph’s fiercest invective did not jar upon the ‘master of flouts and jeers.’ Neither could be insensible to the personal fascination of the other. Both rejoiced in a wide and illuminating survey of public affairs; both dwelt much upon the future; both preserved a cynical disdain of small men seeking paltry ends. But the gulf which separated the fiery leader of Tory Democracy—with his bold plans of reform and dreams of change, with his record of storm and triumph and slender expectations of a long life—from the old-fashioned Conservative statesman, the head of a High Church and High Tory family, versed in diplomacy, representative of authority, wary, austere, content to govern—was a gulf no mutual needs, no common interests, no personal likings could permanently bridge. They represented conflicting schools of political philosophy. They stood for ideas mutually incompatible. Sooner or later the breach must have come; and no doubt the strong realisation of this underlay the action of the one and the acquiescence of the other.
I have tried to show that this profound difference found expression on many specific points. The Cabinet of 1886 had sat together only five months, yet here already were five important matters of disagreement:—The policy to be pursued in the East of Europe; the complexion of the Local Government Bill; the attitude towards the Whigs; the character of the Budget; and lastly, the direct cause of rupture, the expenditure upon armaments. Longer association threatened merely a multiplication and aggravation of divergences. But though patience could not have ended in agreement, it might have brought disagreement to another end. And it is from this point of view that Lord Randolph Churchill’s action requires most careful examination.
The differences upon specific points, regarded singly, were serious; and together they became vital. But they were differences less of principle than of degree. No clear and abrupt dividing-line was presented; and the questions were always of ‘more or less,’ not of ‘yes or no.’ Why should Lord Randolph Churchill not, then, have kept his offices? Would he not, by so doing, have had a much better chance of imparting to Conservative policy the complexion he desired? Much was to be gained by waiting. Every day his position was becoming more assured. At every stage and turn of Cabinet discussion he could have laboured to deflect the course of legislation; and the House of Commons might be guided more easily than his colleagues. In a hundred small ways he could, without any breach of confidence, have served the ends he had in view. But his gorge rose at it. It was almost impossible to him to defend courses of which he disapproved: and in the position he held every act of the Government must be constantly and whole-heartedly defended by him. Imagination might foresee this new Administration, which he more than any man had called into being, drifting irresistibly towards military ambitions and European entanglements, ending perhaps at last in war: and in all this he must be the principal agent—the man who had to make the House of Commons consent. No—at the very outset a decision must be taken and a pacific and progressive domestic policy established. Without that assurance the honours and amenities of power—and no one enjoyed them more—seemed valueless; and the money—a matter, as we have seen, in itself from other points of view of much consequence—a thing not to be considered for a moment.
Of course, he hoped the others would give way—would, at any rate, make some considerable concession, which would leave him proportionately strengthened. ‘With respect to Local Government,’ he wrote to Mr. Chamberlain on the 19th, ‘I pressed Lord Salisbury and Mr. Goschen very hard to give up the idea of ex officio representation, and’ (a significant sentence) ‘possibly my arguments may not be altogether without effect.’ How could they do without him? Who was there to fill the Treasury? Could Smith make head against Gladstone in Parliament? Was Lord Salisbury the man to maintain the alliance with the Chamberlain of 1886? Would Stanhope vindicate the Government in the constituencies? Balfour was unknown: Beach was ailing: Goschen was ‘very hard to please’: and the Whigs doubtful and contrary. Beyond all question he was the most powerful and efficient instrument at the disposal of the Prime Minister—probably, as it seemed, the only instrument which would be effective. And since so powerful and necessary, and moreover being possessed of a complete scheme and temper of political thought largely accepted among the people, he was bound to put it to the proof whether he should not exert an influence upon policy compatible with his public pledges and proportioned to his usefulness to the Government. But still a more patient man would have waited.
Undoubtedly he expected to prevail. What he asked was in itself a small thing: ‘Cannot this vote for coaling stations, for instance, stand over till next year?’—some petty economy; but still an economy, and an economy in armaments. He knew that if they had wished to meet him, they could easily have compounded. Reductions greater than would have kept him, were made after he was gone. And since it was thus revealed that his colleagues did not wish to act with him, what a prospect of vexation and disappointment and special pleadings the future unveiled!—unless the matter could be settled at the very beginning and a peaceful and progressive policy assured.