The Life of the Rt. Hon. Sir Charles W. Dilke Volume I Part 3

His cousin, William Wentworth Grant Dilke, was Captain and Adjutant of the 77th Regiment, and Charles Dilke remembered the young officer's visit to bid good-bye before he departed for the Crimea, where he met his death.

Though old Mr. Dilke had sympathized with the wonderful manoeuvres of the child's armies of leaden soldiers, and had added to them large reinforcements, he became troubled by his grandson's keen and excited following of all the reports from the Crimea. He had a terror of the boy's becoming a soldier, and 'used to do his best to point out the foolish side of war.' But this, as the pa.s.sage already quoted shows, did not deter his pupil from beginning, while still a growing youth, detailed study of military matters.

Under normal conditions, an undergraduate going up to an English University without public school friendships is at a disadvantage: and this was Charles Dilke's case. But he went to his father's college, Trinity Hall; and his father was a very well known and powerfully connected man. Offer of a baronetcy had been made to Wentworth Dilke in very unusual and gratifying terms. General Grey, the Queen's secretary, wrote:

"ST. JAMES'S PALACE, "_January 1st_, 1862.

"MY DEAR DILKE,

"The Queen cannot forget for how many years you have been a.s.sociated with her beloved husband in the promotion of objects which were dear to his heart; and she would fain mark her sense of the valuable a.s.sistance you have ever given him in his labours in some manner that would be gratifying to your feelings.

"I am therefore commanded by Her Majesty to express the hope that the offer of a Baronetcy which she has informed Lord Palmerston of her desire to confer upon you, coming direct from Her Majesty herself, and as her own personal act, may be one which it will be agreeable to you to accept."

Proof of the Queen's strong feeling for the man who had been so closely a.s.sociated with the Prince Consort in his work of popularizing the arts and crafts had already been given by the fact that Wentworth Dilke was, except for those whom she was obliged to meet on business, the first person from the outside world whom she saw after the Prince Consort's death. And indeed, but for his sense of a personal graciousness in the offer, Wentworth Dilke would scarcely have departed from his lifelong habit of deference to his father's wish and judgment. Old Mr. Dilke, though gratified by the compliment, wrote to a friend:

"My son's fortune is not strong enough to enable his children to carry such a burthen with ease; and as to the waifs and strays which it may help them to, I would rather see them fight their good fight unshackled."

There came a time when the baronetcy was something of an enc.u.mbrance to one of these children:

'When I was accused of attacking the Queen, which I never did, somebody--I forget who--went further, and said I had "bitten the hand which fed me," and I really believe that this metaphor expressed publicly a private belief of some people that my father had made money by his labours. All I can say is that he never made a farthing by them in any form at any time, and that in '51 and in '62 he spent far more than his income on entertainments.... He wished for no reward, and he knew the conditions under which his life was given to public rather than to private service: but he killed himself at it; he left me much less rich than I should otherwise have been, and it is somewhat hard to find myself told that if I call attention to notorious illegalities I am "biting the hand that fed me." The Queen herself has, as I happen to know, always spoken in a very different sense.'

The newly made Baronet, in the course of his labours for the second Great Exhibition, added to his already very numerous friendships.

'My father's chief foreign friends in '62 were Prince Napoleon, Montesinos, Baron Schwartz (Austria), Baron von Brunen von Grootelind (Holland), Prince Oscar (afterwards King of Sweden), and Senator Fortamps (Belgium).'

Finally, there is this entry, written in 1890:

'Just as I had made the acquaintance of the Duke of Wellington through father in the Exhibition of 1851, so I made that of Palmerston in the Exhibition of 1862. He was still bright and lively in walk and talk, and was extremely kind in his manner to me, and asked me to one of Lady Palmerston's Sat.u.r.day nights at Cambridge House, to which I duly went. I should think that there is no one living but myself who was at the Ball to the Queen at the Hotel de Ville in 1855, at the famous Guards' Ball in 1862, and also at one of Lady Palmerston's evenings.'

Charles Dilke matriculated at Trinity Hall in October 1862.

CHAPTER III

CAMBRIDGE

Charles Dilke was sent in 1862, as in later days he sent his own son, to his father's college. Trinity Hall in the early sixties was a community possessing in typical development the combination of qualities which Cambridge has always fostered. Neither very large nor very small, it had two distinguishing characteristics: it was a rowing college, and it was a college of lawyers. Although not as a rule distinguished in the Tripos Lists, it was then in a brilliant period.

The Memoir will show that in Dilke's first year a Hall man was Senior Wrangler, and that the boat started head of the river. Such things do not happen without a cause; and the college at this moment numbered on its staff some of the most notable figures in the University. The Vice-Master, Ben Latham, for thirty-five years connected with the Hall, was of those men whose reputation scarcely reaches the outside world; but he had found the college weak, he had made it strong, and he was one of the inst.i.tutions of Cambridge.

Among the junior Fellows were Fawcett and Leslie Stephen. Both were profound believers in hard tonic discipline of mind and body, inculcating their belief by doctrine and example; and both, with great diversity of gifts, had the rough strong directness of intellectual attack which Cambridge, then perhaps more than at any other time, set in contrast to the subtleties of Oxford culture.

Leslie Stephen in particular, who had been a tutor and who was still a clerical Fellow, made it his business to meet undergraduates on their own ground. Hard work and hard bodily exercise--but, above all, hard bodily exercise--made up the gospel which he preached by example. No one ever did more to develop the cult of athletics, and there is no doubt that he thought these ideals the best antidote to drunkenness and other vices, which were far more rife in the University of that day than of this.

Both he and Fawcett were strenuous Radicals, and contact with them was well fitted to infuse fresh vitality into the political beliefs which Charles Dilke had a.s.sumed by inheritance from his grandfather. In these ways of thought he met them on ground already familiar and attractive to him. His introduction to Fawcett was at the Economics and Statistics Section of the British a.s.sociation, which he attended at Cambridge in the first week of his first term. "I am one of the few people who really enjoy statistics," he said, long years after this, in a presidential address to the Statistical Society. But it was early at nineteen to develop this exceptional taste.

In another domain of modern thought these elder men affected his mind considerably and with a new order of ideas. Old Mr. Dilke seems to have left theology out of his purview altogether; and it was at Cambridge that Charles Dilke first met the current of definitely sceptical thought on religious matters.

Fawcett was aggressively unorthodox. But far more potent was the influence of Leslie Stephen, then with infinite pain struggling under the yoke that he had taken on himself at ordination, and had not yet shaken off. The effect of Stephen's talk--though he influenced young men as much by his dry critical silence as by his utterances--was heightened by admiration for his athletic prowess. He coached the college Eights: anyone who has been at a rowing college will realize how commanding an ascendancy is implied. But his athletics covered every phase of muscular activity; and Fawcett joined him in encouraging the fashion of long walks.

Another of the long-walkers whom the Memoir notes as among the chief influences of those days was Leslie Stephen's pupil Romer, the Admirable Crichton of that moment--oarsman, cricketer, and Trinity Hall's hope in the Mathematical Tripos. The future Lord Justice of Appeal was then reading for the Tripos, in which he was to be Senior Wrangler; and, according to Cambridge custom, took a certain amount of coaching as part of his work. Charles Dilke was one of those whom he instructed, and it was the beginning of a friendship which lasted many years.

Looking back, Sir Robert Romer says that most undergraduates are simply grown-up boys, and that at Trinity Hall in his day there was no variation from this type till Dilke came there--a lad who, to all appearance, had never a.s.sociated with other lads, whose companions had been grown-up people, and who had mature ideas and information on everything. But, thrown among other young men, the young man found himself with surprising rapidity. Elements in his nature that had never been brought out developed at once; and one of these was a great sense of fun. Much stronger than he looked, he plunged into athletics with a perfectly simple delight.

"n.o.body," says Sir Robert Romer, "could make more noise at a boating supper." This frank natural glee remained with him to the end. Always disputatious, always a lover of the encounter of wits, he had none the less a lifelong gift for comradeship in which there was little clash of controversy and much hearty laughter.

One of the eight-and-twenty freshmen who matriculated at Trinity Hall along with Charles Dilke in 1862 was David Fenwick Steavenson, a dalesman from Northumberland, with whom he formed a lasting friendship. The two had seemingly little in common. Dilke to all appearance was "very serious,"

and in disposition of mind ten years older than his fellows, while the young Northumbrian's whole preoccupation was to maintain and enlarge the fame of his college on the river. If the friendship was to develop, Steavenson must undoubtedly become interested in intellectual matters, but not less certainly Dilke must learn to row. It was a very useful discipleship for the future politician. Sloping shoulders, flat and narrow chest, height too great for his build: these were things that Cambridge helped to correct. Dilke, a willing pupil, was diligently coached by the stronger man, until he became an accomplished and effective oar. In general Judge Steavenson's recollection confirms Sir Robert Romer's, and gives precision to one detail. In their second year, upon the occasion of some triumph on the river, there was to be a b.u.mp supper, but the college authorities forbade, whereupon an irregular feast was arranged--this one bringing a ham, that a chicken, and so on. When the heroes had put from them desire of eating and drinking, they sallied out, and after a vigorous demonstration in the court, proceeded to make music from commanding windows. It was Charles Dilke who had provided the whistles and toy drums for this ceremony, and Judge Steavenson retains a vision of the future statesman at his window [Footnote: Dilke's rooms were on Staircase A, on the first floor, above the b.u.t.tery. They have not for very many years been let to an undergraduate, as they are too near the Fellows' Combination Room.] blowing on a whistle with all his might. The authorities were vindictive, and Dilke suffered deprivation of the scholarship which he had won at the close of his freshman year.

Such penalties carry no stigma with them. It should be noted, too, that at a period of University history when casual excess in drink was no reproach, but rather the contrary, Charles Dilke, living with boating men in a college where people were not squeamish, drank no wine. Judge Steavenson adds that the dislike of coa.r.s.e talk which was marked with him later was equally evident in undergraduate days.

Charles Dilke's own ambition and industry were reinforced by the keen anxiety of his people. Concealing nothing of their eagerness for him to win distinction, those who watched his career with such pa.s.sionate interest set their heart, it would seem, on purely academic successes. Sir Wentworth Dilke may well have feared, from his own experience, that old Mr. Dilke's expectations might again be disappointed by a student who found University life too full of pleasure. At all events it was to his father that the freshman wrote, October 24th, 1862, a fortnight after he had matriculated:

"I am very sorry to see by your letter of this morning that you have taken it into your head that I am not reading hard. I can a.s.sure you, on the contrary, that I read harder than any freshman except Osborn, who takes no exercise whatever; and that I have made the rowing-men very dissatisfied by reading all day three days a week. On the other three I never read less than six hours, besides four hours of lectures and papers. I have not missed reading a single evening yet since I have been here; that is, either from six, or seven, till eleven, except Sat.u.r.day at Latham's. This--except for a fourth-year man--is more than even the tutors ask for.... I hope I have said enough to convince you that you are entirely wrong; what has made you so has been my account of breakfasts, which are universal, and neither consume time nor attract attention. I was at one this morning--I left my rooms at twenty-five minutes to nine, and returned to them at five minutes to nine, everything being over."

This scrupulous economy of time was to be characteristic of Charles Dilke's whole life, and nothing impressed his contemporaries more at all times than the "methodical bee-like industry" attributed to him by the present Master of Trinity Hall. Mr. Beck, who came up to the college just after Dilke left it, thus expands the impression:

"There remained in Trinity Hall in 1867 a vivid tradition that he was one of the few men who never lost a minute, would even get in ten minutes of work between river and Hall (which was in those days at five o'clock); and much resembled the Roman who learned Greek in the time saved from shaving. On the doorpost inside his bedroom over the b.u.t.tery there remained in pencil the details of many days of work thus pieced together." [Footnote: _Cambridge Review_, February 2nd, 1911.]

Judge Steavenson recalls how he used to be "bundled out" of his friend's rooms the instant that the appointed hour for beginning to read had arrived, and he did his best to mitigate the strenuousness of that application. But there were stronger influences at work than his: Sir Wentworth Dilke was fully satisfied with the a.s.surance he had received, as well he might be; but the grandfather never ceased to enforce the claims of study. He wrote ceaselessly, but with constant exhortations that he should be answered only when work and play allowed.

When the letters from Cambridge told of success in athletics, he responded, but with a temperate rejoicing. Here, for instance, is his reference to the news that the freshman had rowed in the winning boat of the scratch fours on March 14th, 1863:

"I am glad that you have won your 'pewter'--as I was glad when you took rank among the best of the boating freshmen--although I have not set my heart on your plying at Blackfriars Bridge, nor winning the hand of the daughters of Horse-ferry as the 'jolly young waterman,' or old Doggett's Coat and Badge. But all things in degree; and therefore I rejoice a hundred times more at your position in the college Euclid examination."

There was no mistaking old Mr. Dilke's distaste for all these athletics, and it was to his father, on this one point more sympathetic, that the freshman wrote this characteristic announcement of a great promotion:

"Edwards" (captain of the Trinity Hall Boat Club) "has just called to inform me that I am to row in the head-of-the-river boat to- morrow, and to go into training for it.

"The time wasted if I row in it will not be greater than in the 2nd, but there is one difference--namely, that it may make me more sleepy at nights. I must read hard before breakfast. Romer--who is my master and pastor--tells me of all things to row in it,--this year at all events."

He did row in the May races of his first year, and with so little detriment to his work that in the following month he secured the first mathematical scholarship in the college examination. This triumph may well have disposed old Mr. Dilke to accept a suggestion which is recorded in the correspondence. On June 2nd it was decided that Trinity Hall should send an eight to Henley, and the letter adds: "I should think my grandfather would like to come and stay at or near Henley while I am there."

Before the date fixed, the oarsman had been inducted scholar, and so Mr.

Dilke could go with a free heart to see his grandson row in the Grand Challenge against Brasenose and Kingston, where Trinity Hall defeated Kingston, but were themselves defeated by Brasenose in a very fast race.

It was not only in the examination halls and on the river that Charles Dilke was winning reputation. He had joined the Volunteers, and proved himself among the crack rifleshots of the University corps; he had won walking races, but especially he had begun to seek distinction in a path which led straight to his natural goal.

The impression left on Sir Robert Romer's mind was that Dilke came up to the University elaborately trained with a view to a political career. This is to read into the facts a wrong construction; the purpose, if it existed at all, was latent only in his mind. The training which he had received from his grandfather lent itself admirably, it is true, to the making of a statesman; but it was the pupil's temperament which determined the application of that rich culture.

The first debate which he had the chance to attend at the Union was on October 28th, 1862, the motion being: "That the cause of the Northern States is the cause of humanity and progress, and that the widespread sympathy with the Confederates is the result of ignorance and misrepresentation."

The discussion gained in actuality from the fact that the President of the Union was Mr. Everett, son of the distinguished literary man who had been America's representative in London, and was at this time Secretary of State in the Federal Government. But the South had a notable ally. Mr.

George Otto Trevelyan, author of some of the best light verse ever written by an undergraduate, was still in residence, though he had before this taken his degree; and he shared in those days the sentimental preference for the South. Dilke reported to his grandfather: "Trevelyan's speech was mere flash, but very witty." "Mere flash" the freshman was likely to think it, for he shared his grandfather's opinions, and gave his first Union vote for the North--in a minority of 34 against 117. "Very witty" it was sure to be, and its most effective hit was a topical allusion. The Union Society of those days had its quarters in what had originally been a Wesleyan chapel--a large room in Green Street, the floor of which is now used as a public billiard saloon, while the galleries from which applause and interruption used to come freely now stand empty. There had long been complaint of its inadequacy; Oxford had set the example of a special edifice, and as far back as 1857 a Building Fund had been started, which, however, dragged on an abortive existence from year to year, a constant matter of gibes. 'Can the North restore the Union?' Mr. Trevelyan asked.

'Never, sir; they have no Building Fund'; and the punning jest brought down a storm of applause.

But when Mr. Trevelyan, after a year spent in India, came back to England and to Cambridge gossip in the beginning of 1864, he learnt that this despised Building Fund had been taken seriously in hand, that one undergraduate in particular was corresponding with all manner of persons, and that this Union also was going to be restored. That was how the present Sir George Trevelyan first heard the name of Charles Dilke.