The reconciliation of Lord Randolph Churchill with Lord Salisbury which followed on the Sheffield Conference, was comprehensive and loyally observed. The tactics of the Opposition became more effective in the House of Commons and their councils more harmonious. But strife in the constituencies was to succeed this session of storm and effort. Faced by the rejection of a great popular measure at the hands of hereditary legislators, the Liberal Government did not waver. The autumn was consumed in angry agitation and Parliament was specially summoned for a winter session to pass the Bill again. The Radicals were full of hope that no compromise would be offered or accepted. Never before or since had they laid hands upon so good a battering-ram as the Franchise Bill. Never since those days has the House of Lords placed itself on ground so insecure. But the pressure of public opinion proved effective; Mr. Gladstone was benevolent; and the Queen urgent for a settlement. Lord Randolph Churchill was deeply impressed with the danger of a continuance of the constitutional struggle between the Lords and the Commons. ‘It was not a little owing to the urgency,’ writes Sir Michael Hicks-Beach, ‘with which he pressed on me the need of some arrangement that, with the consent of Lord Salisbury and Sir Stafford Northcote, I had the preliminary conferences with Lord Hartington which led to the more formal meetings of the leaders of both parties.’ Finally, after weeks of haggling, expostulation, menace, and intrigue, it was finally arranged that the Franchise Bill should pass first and that Redistribution upon lines agreeable to both parties should follow forthwith.
To mark and proclaim the newly compacted alliance within the Conservative party, Sir Stafford Northcote came during the autumn recess to speak in Lord Randolph’s support at Birmingham. Of all the demonstrations organised against the House of Lords for its rejection of the Franchise Bill scarcely any had exceeded that held at Soho Pool, near Birmingham, on Bank Holiday. Aston Park, in the same neighbourhood, had been secured on October 13 by the Conservatives for a counter-demonstration, which was to open a week of campaigning throughout the district. Besides Sir Stafford and Lord Randolph Churchill, Colonel Burnaby and many other members of Parliament and candidates were to address the concourse at five simultaneous political meetings, and the well-known attractions of the Park and of the orators were to be strengthened by bands of music and a firework display. According to the Conservatives, the Aston demonstration was to represent the Midlands in general and Birmingham in particular, and special trains were run from all the surrounding constituencies with detachments of enthusiastic Tories and holiday-makers.
These well-conceived arrangements caused much offence to the Radicals of Birmingham. They declared that an attempt was to be made to misrepresent the feeling of their city by importing outsiders and excursionists to swell the numbers of the demonstrators; and as the meetings had been called from the citizens of Birmingham and were in local parlance ‘town meetings’ rather than ordinary ‘party meetings,’ they resolved to attend them too. Admission to Aston Park was by ticket. It was stated that 120,000 tickets would be issued to those who applied for them. Everyone applied. Trade Union secretaries, great Liberal manufacturers like the Tangyes, officials of the Radical organisations, applied for, in some cases, as many as 800 at a time. The promoters of the demonstration became alarmed; and as it was now clear—and even avowed—that the Radicals would attend in force and spoil the effect, the issue of tickets was stopped and the applications were refused. Elaborate, formidable, and, as it proved, thoroughly effective measures were thereupon adopted to enable the voice of Birmingham to be heard. It became known that large numbers of tickets were being forged. Of course, no one in authority in the Liberal party lent any countenance to such proceedings. Mr. Schnadhorst went away for the day upon important business. A few working men—a mere handful of trampled toilers—spontaneously, with no help from their party, inspired by no other emotion than zeal for freedom and Reform, organised a counter-demonstration. The place of meeting was selected, by an unlucky coincidence, just outside the walls of Aston Park; and there also it happened that, on the appointed day, a cart containing ladders and other useful appliances drew up. The bills announcing this innocent counter-demonstration summoned the ‘Men of Birmingham and the Midlands’ to assemble for deliberation in Witton Road (just outside the Park), after which ‘let all who can get admittance attend the Tory meetings, wear the Gladstone badge, and show you are not ashamed of your colours.’ In order that nothing should interfere with the discharge of these civic duties, Tangye’s and other large works in the city closed for the afternoon.
The day arrived. The weather was suitable to outdoor political debate. The holders of tickets—forged or genuine—assembled by road and rail from all parts of the Midlands. The Aston grounds were soon crowded with demonstrators. Outside, the counter-demonstration, made up of three large processions, estimated at 15,000 strong, converged upon a waste plot of land hard by the Park wall. Individuals began to climb over but were stopped by broken glass. Earnest hands seized the ladders which stood there by chance and the broken glass was demolished. A waggon which had served as the platform was dragged towards the wall; and by this, by the ladders, and also, it appears, by a convenient tree, many persons swarmed over. Inside they found a single policeman, who could do nothing to gainsay them, and a tool-house containing a number of planks. By using the planks as battering-rams a breach was made in the wall and thousands of excited people poured through it into the Park to join by force their friends who had entered by fraud.
The open-air meetings were broken up by riot. Stones, potatoes, and even chairs were flung at the members of Parliament who attempted to address the crowd. The platform of the great hall was stormed. Sir Stafford Northcote, who showed much pluck throughout these turbulent experiences which his physical condition ill fitted him to endure, and Lord Randolph Churchill were overwhelmed by furious clamour and finally driven from the hall in the midst of a battle royal of sticks and chair-legs. Lord Randolph, not following promptly enough, was picked up and carried away bodily by a burly admirer from Wolverhampton. The crowd at first followed at a walk and afterwards at a run, and so menacing and dangerous was their temper that Sir Stafford Northcote was dragged along by his guards at full speed and even so narrowly avoided capture. Other members of Parliament had rougher experiences and Mr. Darling[26] was lucky to make an escape from a window before the door of the room in which he had taken refuge was battered down. The platform of the Skating Rink collapsed while a free-fight was raging upon it. The fireworks perished ignominiously in broad daylight; the set-piece of Sir Stafford Northcote being received with storms of groans and fired off, by a refinement of cruelty, upside down. Such were the Aston riots. No persons were actually killed in them, but not a few were seriously injured, and hundreds carried away scars and bruises from the fray.
The indignation caused among the Conservatives of Birmingham, and indeed throughout the country, by these events was fierce and bitter. Lord Randolph Churchill turned to the fullest advantage the blunder into which his adversaries had been drawn. Every day for a week, in spite of repeated threats of personal violence, he journeyed to and fro in Birmingham and in a series of speeches, published and read in every part of the country, he fastened the responsibility for disorder and intimidation upon Mr. Chamberlain and his Caucus. He urged Conservative working men to take effective measures to protect themselves from tyranny and not to hesitate to meet force by force. ‘I do not think,’ he said, ‘the Conservative party ought to look to the police for assistance. We are quite capable of taking care of ourselves.’ Formal resolutions were accordingly passed by Conservative Clubs, pledging themselves to take concerted measures of defence and of reprisal. Upon the connection of the Birmingham Corporation with Radical politics he was explicit.
The contest in Birmingham is not a contest, such as is carried on in other constituencies in England, between party and party. It is a contest between popular self-government and a corrupt oligarchy; between electoral freedom and Russian despotism; between open dealing and Venetian espionage; between individual security and public order and all the resources and ingenuity of terror and intimidation. The whole of the governing power of the borough of Birmingham is almost absolutely in the hands of the Caucus. The patronage disposed of is enormous. The Caucus, acting under the name of the Corporation, own the gasworks; they own the water supply; they control the lunatic asylums; they control the grammar school; they control some large establishments in the nature of a drainage farm; they manipulate the borough funds to the extent of nearly one million a year; they pay something like 80,000l. a year in wages; and their number of employees, as far as I can ascertain, is about 25,000. And all these enormous resources are directed principally, not so much to the good of the town of Birmingham, as to the maintenance of the power of the Caucus. Every one of their employees knows that he holds his office, his position, his employment, upon the distinct understanding that in all political and municipal matters he must blindly submit himself; and upon the slightest sign even of independence—to say nothing of opposition—he will lose his employment; he will be thrown upon the world with all his family, even if it should lead to his ruin or his starvation.
These charges were furiously denied, and were no doubt exaggerated in form; but they bore a sufficiently accurate and substantial relation to circumstances well within the knowledge of Birmingham citizens to be highly damaging. Moreover, the argument that the Radical party, although already possessed of all the machinery of national government, were preparing—by the abolition of the Second Chamber on the one hand, and the suppression of public meetings on the other—to subvert the Constitution and to enter upon revolutionary paths, gained acceptance in England far beyond the ordinary limits of Conservative opinion.
So soon as Parliament met, a week later, for the winter session, Lord Randolph placed upon the paper an amendment to the Address taking the form of a vote of censure on Mr. Chamberlain for speeches which encouraged interference with freedom of discussion and incited to riot and disorder. The debate was heralded for several days by much preliminary snarling. Mr. Chamberlain, irritated by constant cross-questioning, referred to Sir Henry Wolff as Lord Randolph Churchill’s ‘jackal.’ ‘With his usual insolence,’ observed Sir Henry Wolff in reply; and, on being rebuked by the Speaker, he substituted ‘with his usual courtesy.’ Mr. Chaplin inquired whether the President of the Local Government Board would not proceed to describe his opponents as ‘hyænas’; and Lord Randolph Churchill, availing himself of the Speaker’s ruling that the word ‘jackal,’ if looked upon as a figurative expression, was not out of order, proceeded to state that at the earliest possible opportunity he would move his amendment and ‘draw the badger.’
This occasion was provided on October 30, and led to a singularly unpleasant debate. Lord Randolph Churchill quoted numerous extracts from Mr. Chamberlain’s speeches. He asserted that no Minister of the Crown had ever used such language and that Irish members had been committed to prison for language much less strong. He declared that Mr. Chamberlain knew beforehand of the counter-demonstration and of what it was intended to effect and that he might easily have prevented the riot had he chosen to do so. Mr. Chamberlain exerted himself greatly, and not unsuccessfully, in replying. He in his turn was able to discover in Lord Randolph Churchill’s speeches some traces of violent language. He flatly denied that he had had any personal complicity in the riot, which, he explained, had arisen solely from the mismanagement of the Tory organisation and from their attempt to give their meeting the character of a national demonstration. But the most effective part of his speech consisted in a number of affidavits of roughs, said to have been engaged by the Secretary of the Conservative Association to turn out Liberals from the meeting, whose violence it was alleged had provoked the outbreak. When he sat down he had in great measure stemmed the tide which had been running strongly against him. As his speech was drawing to a close Lord Randolph leaned across the gangway and asked Sir Michael Hicks-Beach if he would reply. Sir Michael, much impressed by Mr. Chamberlain’s argument, declined; but Sir Hardinge Giffard, to whom Lord Randolph then turned, stepped into the breach, and with little premeditation made a most admirable and effective rejoinder, which swayed the opinion of the House and threw the gravest doubt upon the authenticity and credibility of the documents from which Mr. Chamberlain had quoted. Upon the division Lord Randolph’s amendment was defeated by 214 to 178. ‘The majority,’ observes the Annual Register, ‘exonerating Mr. Chamberlain from any blameworthy act, was far smaller than a member of the Cabinet commanding the confidence and sympathy of his supporters had a right to expect.’