tenants on his estate. There was no more regular attender than he at the meetings of the local Chamber of Agriculture, and he usually took part in the discussions. Though a large landlord and a farmer, there was always absolute unselfishness in the way in which on these occasions, and also as a member of the House of Commons, he approached and dealt with public questions. Thus he never could be induced to support the Agricultural Rates Relief Act of 1896, which he held, though it might temporarily assist the occupier, must ultimately be to the profit and advantage of the landlord. He objected to such doles out of the pockets of the tax-payers at large. He made it the topic of many speeches at the Chamber of Agriculture in Carlisle and elsewhere. Thus, speaking at the former in the autumn of 1896, he said: "They were going to give this money. They said agriculture was depressed. That might be so. It was said that this Bill was not intended to remedy the depression, but only to relieve it, and the relief was to be got by paying half the rates out of the public funds. This system of paying public money drawn from the taxes of the whole community to benefit one class was one of the most flagitious and immoral they could conceive." Again, at a public meeting a little later he returned to the subject: "They saw that working men were now to be called on virtually to give a million to poor distressed landlords.' He was very much obliged to them. He had done all he could for working men in his life, and now he thought this was a testimonial. Who were the men who were going to be relieved? The landlords, and nobody else. It was as clear as daylight. He was a landlord himself, and, though their chairman was good enough to say that he, he was sure, would not raise his rents, yet it was evident that on a change of tenancy or sale of the property the advantage must go into the landlord's pocket. He did not see why he should be thus relieved." In the same spirit he opposed any return to a Protective policy, which

he regarded as landlord-relief out of the pockets of the general consumers. It was this unselfish disinterested way of looking at all public questions that endeared him to his constituents. and ensured his popularity with the country.

'For agricultural distress he held that the best remedy was that those who were engaged in it should receive the most appropriate and scientific education that could be provided. For this purpose he took a deep interest in establishing the Aspatria Agricultural College, and was the Chairman of its Committee until his death.'

CHAPTER XIV

EPILOGUE

(By the Editor)

My own acquaintance with Wilfrid Lawson began when I entered Parliament, at the General Election of 1880. He was then fifty, and I was twenty-seven; but it is a pleasant characteristic of the House of Commons that it obliterates all distinctions of age, as well as those of rank and wealth, and puts young and old and middle-aged on a footing of absolute equality. While this is a general law of the place, it is of course illustrated with special force in particular instances. Some of our seniors, with the best will in the world, used rather to patronize us and play the Heavy Father. Lawson's genial spirit, and total freedom from stiffness and pomposity, would have made such an attitude towards younger men impossible; and I think that we regarded him as a kind of Elder Brother, whom it was particularly easy to approach, and on whose unaffected kindness we could always rely. Though my personal acquaintance with Lawson dated only from my entrance into Parliament, I was of course familiar with his public record; and it is conceivable that one might have formed in one's mind a rather alarming picture of the zealot who, in season and out of season, had so long been preaching the stern doctrine which was masked under the name of the Permissive Bill. But all such apprehensions were dispelled by Mr. Justin M'Carthy, who, in his 'History of Our Own Times,' (published in 1879) had written as follows:

"The Parliamentary leader of the agitation [against the

Liquor-Traffic] was Sir Wilfrid Lawson, a man of position, of great energy, and of thorough earnestness. Sir Wilfrid Lawson was not, however, merely energetic and earnest. He had a peculiarly effective style of speaking, curiously unlike what might be expected from the advocate of an austere and somewhat fanatical sort of legislation. He was a humorist of a fresh and vigorous order, and he always took care to amuse his listeners, and never allowed his speeches to bore them.'

This account of Lawson I found, on personal contact, to be strictly true; and I might have added that, unlike most leaders of great causes, he was perfectly tolerant of those who did not share his faith. In those distant and unregenerate days I had not even become a convert to the principle of Local Control over the Liquor-Traffic; but this painful fact did not in the least impair the friendliness and good-fellowship with which Lawson honoured me. He knew that I was a convinced and ardent Radical, so that, on nine points out of ten in the Liberal creed, I agreed with him. He seemed content to accept me on that footing, and pleasantly assured me that as regards the Liquor-Laws I should come right one day. Whether I ever quite fulfilled his sanguine expectations, I am not absolutely sure; but I know very well that, in the quarter of a century during which I enjoyed the privilege of his friendship, I learned to regard the nobility and beauty of his character with ever

1 This singular benignity of Lawson's temper is well illustrated by the following anecdote, kindly communicated by Mr. Samuel Whitbread, the honoured chief of Whitbread & Co., and for forty-three years M.P. for Bedford: 'One night coming from the House of Commons-it had been raining heavily-Lawson and I were arm-in-arm picking our way across the very wet road to Great George Street, when suddenly an omnibus, coming at a great pace, seemed to be right over us. I don't know how we escaped. There was a great shout, and we found ourselves safe on the pavement. I said to Lawson-"My friend, are you aware how near we were to being crushed by that bus?" "Yes," he replied. "I was just thinking that, if that had happened, there would have been joy in either camp."'

increasing admiration. His personal attractiveness had always been the same, but our political sympathy grew deeper as time went on. In all those great issues of national policy where questions of Right and Wrong are concerned, he seemed to find his way, by a kind of intuition, to the right side, long before the public conscience had been enlightened, and even when, as in the case of the South African War, it had been systematically misled. His memory will always abide with me as that of the most unswervingly conscientious politician whom I have ever known.

This seems, in some ways, a hard saying; for it has been my happiness to know, and sometimes to be closely associated with, politicians of the highest character and of unquestionable integrity. But most of these men have been, on one side or the other, members of the Government; and it is obvious that any man who joins a Government must do so with the full knowledge that he is making himself part of a system in which compromise, adjustment, mutual concession, and give-and-take, are the necessary conditions of life and work; where no one can have everything exactly as he would wish it; and where each man must be content if, in vital and urgent matters, he is sufficiently at one with his colleagues to make combined action possible. Then again some of the most high-minded men whom I have known in public life have been, before and above all else, loyal members of a Party. To such men it is the easiest and most natural thing in the world to put their individual scruples into their pockets; to subordinate their special objects, if they have any, to the general purpose; to stifle all critical impulses whether in themselves or in others; and to back their leaders' policy however strange or inconsistent it may seem. Their motto is, 'My Party, right or wrong,' and they act up to what they profess.

With the habits of mind thus indicated, Lawson had no sympathy. He would not have sat in judgment on members