Prime Ministers and Some Others | Page 6

prize for Latin
verse at Oxford, and translated the Iliad into fluent hexameters. Good
as a scholar, he was, as became the grandson of the founder of "The
Derby," even better as a sportsman; and in private life he was the best
companion in the world, playful and reckless, as a schoolboy, and
never letting prudence or propriety stand between him and his jest. "Oh,
Johnny, what fun we shall have!" was his characteristic greeting to
Lord John Russell, when that ancient rival entered the House of Lords.
Furthermore, Stanley had, in richest abundance, the great natural gift of
oratory, with an audacity in debate which won him the nickname of

"Rupert," and a voice which would have stirred his hearers if he had
only been reciting Bradshaw. For a brilliant sketch of his social aspect
we may consult Lord Beaumaris in Lord Beaconsfield's _Endymion_;
and of what he was in Parliament we have the same great man's
account, reported by Matthew Arnold: "Full of nerve, dash, fire, and
resource, he carried the House irresistibly along with him."
In the Parliament of 1859-1865 (with which my political recollections
begin) Lord Palmerston was Prime Minister and Lord Derby Leader of
the Opposition, with Disraeli as his lieutenant in the House of
Commons. If, as Lord Randolph Churchill said in later years, the
business of an Opposition is to oppose, it must be admitted that Derby
and Disraeli were extremely remiss. It was suspected at the time, and
has since been made known through Lord Malmesbury's Memoirs, that
there was something like an "understanding" between Palmerston and
Derby. As long as Palmerston kept his Liberal colleagues in order, and
chaffed his Radical supporters out of all the reforms on which their
hearts were set, Derby was not to turn him out of office, though the
Conservative minority in the House of Commons was very large, and
there were frequent openings for harassing attack.
Palmerston's death, of course, dissolved this compact; and, though the
General Election of 1865 had again yielded a Liberal majority, the
change in the Premiership had transformed the aspect of political
affairs. The new Prime Minister was in the House of Lords,
seventy-three years old, and not a strong man for his age. His lieutenant
in the House of Commons was Gladstone, fifty-five years old, and in
the fullest vigour of body and mind. Had any difference of opinion
arisen between the two men, it was obvious that Gladstone was in a
position to make his will prevail; but on the immediate business of the
new Parliament they were absolutely at one, and that business was
exactly what Palmerston had for the last six years successfully
opposed--the extension of the franchise to the working man. When no
one is enthusiastic about a Bill, and its opponents hate it, there is not
much difficulty in defeating it, and Derby and Disraeli were not the
men to let the opportunity slide. With the aid of the malcontent Whigs
they defeated the Reform Bill, and Derby became Prime Minister, with

Disraeli as Leader of the House of Commons. It was a conjuncture
fraught with consequences vastly more important than anyone foresaw.
In announcing his acceptance of office (which he had obtained by
defeating a Reform Bill), Derby amazed his opponents and agitated his
friends by saying that he "reserved to himself complete liberty to deal
with the question of Parliamentary reform whenever suitable occasion
should arise." In February, 1867, Disraeli, on behalf of the Tory
Government, brought in the first really democratic Reform Bill which
England had ever known. He piloted it through the House of Commons
with a daring and a skill of which I was an eye-witness, and, when it
went up to the Lords, Derby persuaded his fellow-peers to accept a
measure which established household suffrage in the towns.
It was "a revolution by due course of law," nothing less; and to this day
people dispute whether Disraeli induced Derby to accept it, or whether
the process was reversed. Derby called it "a leap in the dark." Disraeli
vaulted that he had "educated his party" up to the point of accepting it.
Both alike took comfort in the fact that they had "dished the
Whigs"--which, indeed, they had done most effectually. The disgusted
Clarendon declared that Derby "had only agreed to the Reform Bill as
he would of old have backed a horse at Newmarket. He hates Disraeli,
but believes in him as he would have done in an unprincipled trainer:
_he wins_--that is all."
On the 15th of August, 1867, the Tory Reform Bill received the Royal
Assent, and Derby attained the summit of his career. Inspired by
whatever motives, influenced by whatever circumstances, the Tory
chief had accomplished that which the most liberal-minded of his
predecessors had never even