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 Saturday 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 institutions 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 assumed 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 Association, 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 associated 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. "Nobody," 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 bump 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 buttery. 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 coarse 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 passionate 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 assure 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 Saturday 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 Buttery 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 assurance 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.
Even in his earliest term Dilke soon passed out of the rôle of a mere listener and critic. The Commissioners of the International Exhibition of 1862 were then being sharply criticized, and on November 25th "a man of the name of Hyndman" (so the undergraduate's letter described this other undergraduate, afterwards to be well known as the Socialist writer and speaker) moved "a kind of vote of censure" upon them. It was natural enough that Sir Wentworth Dilke's son should brief the defence, and among the papers of 1862 is a bundle of "Notes by me for Everett's speech." Next he was trying his own mettle; and opposed a motion "that Prince Alfred should be permitted to accept the throne of Greece." His own note is:
'On the 8th December I made my first speech, advocating a Greek
Republic, and suggesting that if they must have a King, they had
better look to the northern nations to supply one. I was named by
Everett, the President, as one of the tellers in the Division.'
Probably the speech had been no more of a success than most maiden speeches, for Mr. Dilke's letter reads like a consolation:
"The Greek debate I care little about. I would much rather have read a paper on the subject. Till a man can write he cannot speak— except, as Carlyle would say, 'in a confused babble of words and ideas.'"
The main part of the grandson's letters were concerned with the topics handled and the speeches made at the Union.
"November 7th, 1862.
"How wavering and shortsighted the policy of England in Turco-Grecian matters has been of late! Compare Navarino and Sebastopol. Palmerston will, if he has his way, oblige the Greeks to continue in much the same state of degradation as hitherto, and will go on holding up the crumbling Turkish Empire till some rising of Christians occurs at a time when we have our hands full and cannot afford to help our 'old friend.' Then Turkey-in-Europe will vanish. I do not myself believe in the Pan-Slavonic Empire. The Moldavians, Hungarians, and Greeks could never be long united; but I think that Greece might hold the whole of the coast and mountain provinces without containing in itself fatal elements of disunion.
"Brown—No. 3 of our four—broke from his training to-day, and spent
the whole day with the hounds. That will never do."
Mr. Dilke in reply did not conceal the amusement which was awakened in him by the rowing man's deadly seriousness:
"November 9th, 1862.
"I agree with you. No Browns, no hunting fellows, no divided love!! If 'a man' goes in 'our boat' he goes in to win. "Broke from his training!" Abominable! Had he 'broke from his training' when standing out for Wrangler, why so be it, his honour only would be concerned; but here it is our honour, T. H. for ever, and no fox-hunting!
"After this, the Greek question falls flat on the ears, but I will
suggest…"
and thereupon he goes into hints for research, very characteristic in their thoroughness, ending with a practical admonition:
"Now comes 'The Moral.' As you could not speak on the great Ionian question, why not write on it? Write down what you would or could have said on the subject. Take two or three hours of leisure and quiet; write with great deliberation, but write on till the subject is concluded. No deferring, no bit by bit piecework, but all offhand. No correction, not a word to be altered; once written let it stand. Put the Essay aside for a month. Then criticize it with your best judgment—the order and sequence of facts, its verbal defects, its want or superabundance of illustration, its want or superabundance of detail, etc., etc."
Another letter of Dilke's in his freshman year concerns the art of debate:
"What is wanted is common-sense discussion in well-worded speeches with connected argument, the whole to be spoken loud enough to be heard, and with sufficient liveliness to convince the hearers of the speaker's interest in what he is saying. So far as this is oratory, it is cultivated (with very moderate success) at the Union."
From the ideal here indicated—an accurate analysis of 'the House of Commons manner'—Charles Dilke never departed, and his grandfather in replying eagerly reinforced the estimate:
"I agree to all you say about that same Union, and about the Orators and Oratory. I should have said it myself, but thought it necessary to clear the way. I rejoice that no such preliminary labour was required. I agree that even Chatham was a 'Stump'—what he was in addition is not our question. I hope and believe he was the last of our Stumpers. Burke, so far as he was an Orator, was a Stump and something more, and the more may be attributed to the fact that he was a practised writer, where Chatham was not, and that he reported his own speeches. Latterly his writings were all Stump. I had not intended to have written for a week or more, for you have so many correspondents and are so punctual in reply that I fear the waste of precious time; but I am as pleased with your letter as an old dog- fancier when a terrier-pup catches his first rat—it is something to see my boy hunt out and hunt down that old humbug Oratory."
Charles Dilke's own mature judgment on the matters concerned was expressed in a letter to the Cantab of October 27th, 1893:
"The value of Union debates as a training for political life? Yes, if they are debates. There is probably little debate in the Union. There was little in my time. There is little real debating in the House of Commons. But debating is mastery. The gift of debate means the gift of making your opinion prevail. Set speaking is useless and worse than useless in these days."
Dilke was elected to the Library Committee of the Union in his second term, and in his third to the Standing Committee. At this moment a decision was taken to make a determined effort for new buildings, and it was suggested that he should stand for the secretaryship. Declining this as likely to engross more time than he could spare, he was put forward for the Vice-Presidency, and elected at the beginning of October, 1863. His prominence in the negotiations which followed may be inferred from the fact that he was re-elected. This was in itself a rare honour; but in his case was followed by election and re-election to the Presidency, a record unique in the Society's annals.
It was through this phase of his activity that Charles Dilke took part in the general life of the University. At the Union he was closely associated with men outside his own college, one of whom, Lord Edmond Fitzmaurice, was destined to be a lifelong friend and fellow-worker. But his College meant more to him than the University. A conservative in this, he resented, and resisted later on, all tendencies to make the teaching of the place communal by an opening of college lectures to students from other colleges; he valued the distinctiveness of type which went with the older usage, under which he himself was nurtured. Trinity Hall was a lawyers' college; it had a library specially stored with law books, and it was early determined that he should conform to the genius loci so far at least as to be called to the Bar. In his first Christmas vacation he began to eat his dinners at the Middle Temple, where his nomination paper was signed by John Forster; and in June, 1863, after he had spent a year at mathematics and won his college scholarship, he took stock of his position, and felt clear as to his own powers. He might, he thought, attain to about a tenth wranglership in the Mathematical Tripos, which would insure him a fellowship at his college; but this, although he valued academic distinctions very highly, did not seem an end worth two years of work, and he determined to devote the remainder of his time at the University to the study of law and history.
He had not at any time limited himself to mathematics. Both before his freshman year and during it he had read hard and deeply on general subjects. His habit was to analyze on paper whatever he studied, and he had dealt thus in 1861 (aged eighteen) with all Sir Thomas More, Bolingbroke, and Hobbes. Among the papers for 1862 there is preserved such an analysis of Coleridge's political system; a note on the views of the Abbé Morellet, with essays on comparative psychology, the association of ideas, and the originality of the anti-selfish affections. These are deposits of that course of philosophic reading over which, says the Memoir, 'I wasted a good deal of time in 1862, but managed also to give myself much mental training.'
The determination to abandon mathematics for a line of study more germane to that career of which he already had some vision met with no resistance from his people; but it did not altogether please the college authorities. He wrote to old Mr. Dilke:
"When I told Hopkins" (his tutor) "that I was not going out in mathematics, he was taken aback, and seemed very sorry. He urged me to read law, but still to go out as a high senior optime, which he says I could be, without reading more than a very small quantity of mathematics every day. My objection to this was that I knew myself better than he did; that were I to go in for mathematics, I should be as high in that tripos as my talents would let me, and that my law and my life's purpose would suffer in consequence.
"He said—'You will be very sorry if it happens that you are not first legalist of your year—that is the only place in the Law Tripos that you can be content with—and yet remember you have Shee in your year, who is always a dangerous adversary, and who starts with some little knowledge on the subject.'
"I said I should read with Shee, and make him understand that I was intended by Nature to beat him."
The dangerous Shee had been thus announced in a letter of February, 1863: "Shee—son of the well-known Serjeant, [Footnote: Mr. Serjeant Shee was later a Judge—the first Roman Catholic since the time of the Stuarts to sit on the English Bench.] has come up and taken the rooms over me. He seems a nice kind of fellow; of course, a strong Romanist."
Shee remained till the end Dilke's chief competitor, and he was also one of the band of friends who met each other incessantly, and incessantly talked over first principles till the small hours of morning. Perhaps it is not without importance that Charles Dilke should have had the experience, not very common for Englishmen, of living on terms of intimacy with an Irish Roman Catholic: at all events, his relations in after-life, both with Irishmen and with Roman Catholics, were more friendly than is common. For the moment Shee made one factor in the discussions upon theology which are inevitable among undergraduates, and which went on with vigour in this little group, according to the recollection of Judge Steavenson, who in those days, faithful to the orthodoxy of his Low Church upbringing, found himself ranged by the side of the 'strong Romanist' against a general onslaught upon Christianity. Charley Dilke himself had come under the influences of the place and the time. There is an entry headed May, 1863: "I find a fair argument against miracles in my notes for this month." He had abandoned attendance at Communion, but, according to Judge Steavenson, did not go further in opinions or in talk than a vague agnosticism—which was also the attitude of another subtle and agile intelligence in that circle.
Turning over, in 1891, the boxes which held his letters and papers of college days, Charles Dilke wrote:
"1863.
"In every page of the destroyed notebooks of this year I could see the influence of two men—my grandfather and H. D. Warr." [Footnote: Mr. H. D. Warr became a journalist. In 1880 Sir Charles secured him the post of Secretary to the Royal Commission upon City Companies, of which Lord Derby was Chairman.]
Warr was a classical exhibitioner of Trinity Hall in Dilke's year, and was not among the few who are named at first as likely friends, though he figures early as a competitor in the Euclid and Algebra 'fights' at his tutor's. In February, 1863, his name must have been on Dilke's tongue or pen, since this is evidently a reply to inquiries:
"Warr is a clergyman's son. He will probably be about fourth or fifth for the Bell (Scholarship)."
It is not till the October term of his second year that more explicit notice of this friend occurs, when Dilke is giving an account of his first speech as Vice-President of the Union. He opened a debate on the metric system, concerning which he had solid and well-thought-out opinions:
"My speech was logical but not fluent. Warr says it was the best opening speech he ever listened to, but by no means the best speech. Warr is a candid critic whom I dread, so that I am glad he was satisfied."
Of this candour Dilke has preserved some specimens which show that Warr's influence was mainly used in laughing his friend out of his solemnity. Thus Warr characterizes him as a dealer in logic," and, breaking off from some fantastic speculation as to the future of all their college set, January 9th, 1864, moralizes.
"I am an ass, my friend, a great ass, to write in this silly strain to you, but you must not be very angry, though I own now to a feeling of having half insulted your kind serious ways by talking nonsense to them on paper."
APPENDIX
Sir Charles Dilke's association with the river and with rowing men was so constant that we ate justified in preserving this contemporary report of his first race for the Grand Challenge, on which he always looked back with pride:
"It was," says the report, which Dilke preserved, "one of the finest and fastest races ever seen at Henley, and the losers deserve as much credit as the winners. The Oxford crew were on the Berks side, Kingston on the Oxon, and Cambridge in the middle. It was a very fine and even start, and they continued level for about 50 yards, when Brasenose began to show the bow of their boat in front, the others still remaining oar and oar, rowing in fine form and at a great pace. So finely were the three crews matched, that, although Brasenose continued to increase their lead, it was only inch by inch. At the end of about 400 yards Brasenose were about a quarter of a length only ahead. The race was continued with unabated vigour, Brasenose now going more in front, and being a length ahead at the Poplars, where they began to ease slightly. The contest between Cambridge and Kingston was still admirable; Cambridge had made some fine bursts to get away from them, but they were not to be shaken off, and the gallant effort of the one crew was met by a no less gallant effort on the part of the other. The Cambridge crew began to show in front as they neared Remenham, and a most determined race was continued to the end. Brasenose won by a length clear, and the Cambridge boat was not clear of the Kingston, only having got her about three-quarters of their length."
The time—seven minutes, twenty-six seconds—was the fastest that had been rowed over that course, and more than half a minute faster than that of the final heat, in which Brasenose were beaten by University. But next day in the Ladies' Plate University brought down the record by three seconds. Trinity Hall had the worst station, and if they were beaten by only a length, must have been as fast as Brasenose. Kingston was stroked by L. Pugh Evans, Brasenose by D. Pocklington (W. B. Woodgate rowing 4). The Trinity Hall eight were as follows:
st. lb.
E. F. Dyke 9 12
H. W. Edwardes 10 13
W. H. Darton 11 2
C. W. Dilke 11 5
D. F. Steavenson 12 1
R. E. Neane 11 0
W. J. S. Cadman 10 6
R. Richardson 9 10
A. A. Berens (cox.) 9 8
CHAPTER IV
CAMBRIDGE (Continued)
In these years of all-round training Cambridge was doing for Charles Dilke what it has done for hundreds of other young men. The exceptional in his case sprang from the tie which linked this young athlete to the old scholar who, in his library at Sloane Street, or among his flowers at Alice Holt, was ceaselessly preoccupied with detail of the undergraduate's life and work. From the first there was a pathos in his eagerness to follow and understand all the minutiae of an unfamiliar scene. At the close of Charles Dilke's first term he wrote (December 1st, 1862):
"Your letter gave me great pleasure, as indeed for one reason or another, or for no reason if you please, your letters always do; though not being a Cambridge man, I am at times a little puzzled…. What a bore I shall be after the 13th with my endless enquiries."
Ten days later he is jubilant over the results of the college examination which closed the first term:
"Hurrah! hurrah! my dear grandson. Ninety-seven out of a hundred— eleven above the second 'man'—is a position that would satisfy a whole family of loving friends, even if they were all grandfathers."
After every college examination the grandson sent lists of results, compiled with elaborate detail. The grandfather studied them, treasured them, compared them, wanted to know why this man had fallen back, how the other had advanced, and always with the same warm outflow of sympathy and pride over his own pupil. There they lie to-day in the despatch-boxes, preserved as a memorial of that love by the man on whom it was expended. On one is noted:
"Many scraps such as this, and his letters, show the loving care with which my grandfather watched over my progress at the University."
The beginning of his first Long Vacation he spent in travelling through Germany, Holland, and Belgium with his father. Later, in August, he visited Jersey and Guernsey, and went to France alone, making pilgrimage from Cherbourg to Tocqueville's two houses, and filling notebooks with observations on Norman architecture at St. Lô, Coutances, and elsewhere. He was perfecting his mastery of the language, too, and notes long after: "On this journey I was once taken for a Frenchman, but my French was not so good as it was about 1870." But always and everywhere he observed; and sent back the results of his observation to the man who had trained it. On June 30th, 1863, he writes:
"I have been all over Brussels to-day. My previous estimate of the
place is confirmed. It apes Paris without having any of the Parisian
charms, just as its people speak French without being able to
pronounce it.
"The two modern pictures in the Palais de Justice are to me worth all
the so-called Rubenses in the place. They are by Gallait and de
Biefve, and the one is our old friend of last year in London, 'The
Abdication of Charles V.'
"Rogier—the great Belgian Minister—has failed to secure his return
in the late elections, owing to his having given a vote unpopular to
his constituents on the fortification scheme. The Catholics lost three
votes (regained by the advanced party) in the Senate these elections.
"The names of the sides of the chambers are significant:
"Liberals. — Catholics.
"What a fine country Belgium would be if it could get rid of its priests a little more. The people understand freedom. In Ghent the priests are rich, but utterly powerless owing to the extent of the manufacturing interest."
When he returned to Cambridge for the October term of 1863, his hard reading did not satisfy his prodigious power for work. He was Vice- President of the Union, and he undertook the more arduous duties of Secretary and Treasurer of the College Boat Club. When at the beginning of 1864 he was re-elected Vice-President of the Union, his grandfather wrote: "Your University career has proved to me that you have a happiness of manner that wins friends." Mr. Dilke's health began to decline notably in the early part of 1864, and loss of sight menaced him. He took the doctor's sentence, that he must refrain altogether from reading, with characteristic philosophy, but added: "I have ordered that newspapers are not to be sent here, so you must excuse it if, when we meet, I am a little in arrear of the course of life."
Early in February, 1864, Charles Dilke had entered without training for a walking race, and had beaten the University champion, Patrick, covering the mile ("in a gale of wind and over heavy slush") in eight minutes and forty-two seconds. [Footnote: Mr. Patrick, afterwards member of Parliament, and from 1886 Permanent Under-Secretary for Scotland.] To this announcement his grandfather made pleasant reply, threatening to come up and compete in person, but three days later wrote:
"I wish you had sent me a Cambridge paper which contained an account of your Olympic games. It is not too late now if you can get one; I reserve the right of reading everything that relates to you and your concerns."
Meanwhile Charles Dilke's reading went on with feverish energy. The dangerous rival was closely watched. "Shee has been sitting up till ominously late hours for some nights past. His father came up last night and left again to-night, but I fear he did not make his son waste much time." The competitors were straining then for a college law prize, but the letter goes on to observe very sagely:
"The law is of little consequence, as neither of us can know anything about it at present; but I should like to win the essay prize."
The prize was the annual college prize for the best English essay, and that year's subject was "Sir Robert Walpole." Compositions were presumably sent in after the Christmas vacation, for on February 29th, 1864, a fortnight after the announcement as to the walking race, comes this laconic bulletin:
"MY DEAR GRANDFATHER,
"English Essay Prize: Dilke.
Honourably mentioned: Osborn, Shee.
Latin Essay Prize: Warr.
Honourably mentioned: Casswell. [Footnote: A scholar of Sir Charles's
year, and one of his most frequent associates in undergraduate days.]
"They say that parts of my essay were vulgar.
"Your affectionate grandson,
"CHAS. W. DILKE."
That last sentence roused the old critic:
"I should like to read the whole essay. My especial interest is aroused by the charge of occasional vulgarity. If it be true, it is not improbable that the writer caught the infection from his grandfather. With one half the world, in its judgment of literature and of life, vulgarity is the opposite of gentility, and gentility is merely negative, and implies the absence of all character, and, in language, of all idiom, all bone and muscle. I have a notion—only do not whisper such heresy within college walls—that a college tutor must be genteel in his college judgments, that 'The Polite Letter Writer' was the work of an M.A. in the 'Augustan Age.' You may find in Shakespeare household words and phrases from every condition and walk in life—as much coarseness as you please to look for—anything and everything except gentility and vulgarity. Occasional vulgarity is, therefore, a question on which I refuse to take the opinion of any man not well known to me."
On one matter the pupil was recalcitrant. Mr. Dilke begged him to give "one hour or one half-hour a day" to mastering Greek, so as to be able to read it with pleasure—a mastery which could only be acquired "before you enter on the direct purpose and business of life." But "insuperable difficulties" presented themselves. "It is of considerable importance that I should be first in the college Law May examination." Hopes of compliance in a later period were held out, to which Mr. Dilke replied shrewdly that "insuperable difficulties" were often temperamental, and that during the whole period of study equally strong reasons for postponement would continue to present themselves; and then would come "the all-engrossing business of life, and there is an end of half-hours."
In May, 1864, Mr. Dilke was present on the bank at 'Grassy' when, on the second night of the races, Trinity Hall, with his grandson rowing at No. 3, went head of the river.
"The ever-memorable May 12th, 1864.
"MY DEAR FATHER,
"Last night we gained on 3rd Trinity all the way to Ditton Corner, where we were overlapping. Our coxswain made a shot, missed them, and we went into the mid-stream. After our misfortune we paddled slowly over the long reach, and came in half a length behind 3rd Trinity and 2 lengths ahead of 1st Trinity. To-night we did not gain much up to the Plough, where we spurted and caught up 3rd directly; we rowed round Ditton Corner overlapping, and so for 100 yds. more, and then made our bump. The whole of the crew and Stephen were chaired and carried round the quad. [Footnote: Leslie Stephen had coached the boat, which stayed head throughout the races. Judge Steavenson rowed in it at No. 5, where he had rowed earlier in the year for the University. In 1868 it was settled that 'the outrigger which was rowed head of the river in 1864 should be cut up, and the pieces distributed amongst the members of the crew who rowed in her in that year.' Dilke's piece always hung against the wall in his study in Sloane Street.] Our 2nd has made its bump each night, and is 8th on the river!!!"
Hardly were the May races over before the college Law examination began.
On May 31st Charles Dilke wrote to his grandfather:
"The results will be known to-morrow. I have worked as hard as it is possible for me to do, for I have worked till I became almost deprived of memory…. Shee has worked, too, as hard as he could, and was in a dreadful state of nervous excitement this evening. I almost hope that he is first, for I should like to see him get his scholarship. Warr tried to get me to refuse to go in for the examination, or find some pretext for being away, in order to let our common friend get his scholarship; but I said that I thought he would beat me, and that he should have the glory of beating my best efforts if he beat me at all."
An underlying reason against his acceptance of Warr's advice may be found in this letter from Mr. Dilke at Alice Holt to his son Wentworth:
"June 3rd, 1864.
"If you carried out your intention of going to and returning from Cambridge this day, you know, and all in Sloane Street know, that our noble fellow has again won the prize. But the weather may have deterred you, and on the possible chance I copy the results:
"1. Chas. Dilke, 570 marks. Prize. Shee, 440
"What a blessing that boy has been to my old age! May God reward him! I feel for Shee! for he has laboured long and zealously. I wish there had been two prizes.
"I will not mix the subject with baser matter, so shall write my memoranda on another sheet.
"Your affectionate father,
"C. W. D."
After the May term came Henley Regatta, and Trinity Hall was again entered for the Grand Challenge. Many of the friends, Shee amongst them, had taken up their quarters there, along with the oarsmen; and Warr, who was not at Henley, wrote pressing a prompt return to Cambridge for the Long Vacation term. As the Henley week progressed [Footnote: Dilke rowed again both for the Grand Challenge and the Ladies' Plate. In each Trinity Hall met the ultimate winner in the trial heat, and were defeated by Kingston and by Eton, but beat London and Radley.] Mr. Dilke writes:
"My movements may be absolutely regulated by your wishes or convenience. If you desire to pay a visit to the Holt, I have there the chance of a quicker recovery, if I am to go on well; whereas if there be more inducements to visit London, why here I have the benefit of the doctors should I not make progress. The pleasure and the advantages being equal to me, you have only to decide. Let me know your decision by return of post."
Charles Dilke decided for London, and there spent three or four days in the company of his family, and, above all, of his grandfather. Then he went back to Cambridge, and lived the life of strenuous, healthy young men in the summer weather; getting up at five o'clock in the mornings, bathing, reading long hours, walking long walks, talking the long talks of youth. The correspondence with his grandfather centred chiefly now on the subject for the next year's essay competition, which had been announced at the close of the May term, and which, as Charles Dilke said, "seems to be rather in my line."
It was Pope's couplet:
"For forms of government let fools contest,
Whatever is best administered is best."
It was no less in old Mr. Dilke's line than in his grandson's. He wrote on July 14th from Alice Holt a page of admirable criticism on the scheme as outlined by his grandson, and concludes in his habitual tone of affectionate self-depreciation:
"This is another of my old prosings—another proof that love and good will and good wishes remain when power to serve is gone…."
With the precocious maturity of Charles Dilke's intellect had gone a slowness of development in other directions. It is true that those Cambridge men who remember him as an undergraduate remember him as serious, but full of high animal spirits and sense of fun; while everyone speaks of his charm and gaiety. "We were all in love with him," says one vivacious old lady, who belonged to the circle of connections and relatives that frequented 76, Sloane Street. But the letters of his early days at Cambridge hardly show that 'happiness of manner' which his grandfather attributed to him. Only now does the whole personality begin to emerge, as in a letter of 1864, in which he begs his grandfather, because "writing is irksome to you," to send two very short letters rather than one longer one; "for the receipt of a letter gives me an excuse to write again, while on the other hand I can by habit catch your meaning by the first words of your shortest criticisms."
The rest of the sheet was occupied by very able analysis of an article which had been published in the Athenaeum—criticism mature and manly both in thought and expression. The change did not escape the shrewd observer. Mr. Dilke replied:
"ALICE HOLT, "BY FARNHAM, SURREY, "July 28th, 1864.
"MY VERY DEAR GRANDSON,
"Your letters give me very great pleasure, not because they are kind and considerate, of which I had evidence enough long since, not because they flatter the vanity of the old man by asking his opinion, which few now regard, but because I see in them a gradual development of your own mind."
He added a few words in praise of the analysis, but pointed out that the reviewer, whom Charles Dilke censured, was treating a well-worn subject— Bentham's Philosophy—and therefore needed to aim at freshness of view rather than thoroughness of exposition. He added:
"I, however, am delighted with the Article, which is full of promise
of a coming man by which the old journal may benefit."
Save for a final "God bless you!" from "as ever, your affectionate
Grand.," that was the last word written by Mr. Dilke to his grandson.
Within a week he was struck down by what proved to be his fatal illness.
Early on August 8th Charles Dilke wrote to his father that he was deterred from coming home only by the fear lest his sudden arrival might "frighten grandfather about himself and make him worse." A few hours later he was summoned. The rest may be given in his own words:
'August 8th, Monday.—I received a telegram from my father at noon: "You had better come here." I left by the 1.30 train, and reached Alice Holt at half-past six. My Father met me on the lawn: he was crying bitterly, and said, "He lives only to see you." I went upstairs and sat down by the sofa, on which lay the Grand., looking haggard, but still a noble wreck. I took his hand, and he began to talk of very trivial matters—of Cambridge everyday life—his favourite theme of old. He seemed to be testing his strength, for at last he said: "I shall be able to talk to-morrow; I may last some weeks; but were it not for the pang that all of you would feel, I should prefer that it should end at once. I have had a good time of it."
'He had been saying all that morning: "Is that a carriage I hear?" or
"I shall live to see him."
'Tuesday.—When I went in to him, he sent away the others, and told me to look for an envelope and a key. I failed to find it, and fetched Morris, who after a careful search found the key, but no envelope. We had both passed over my last letter (August 6th), which lay on the table. He made us both leave the room, but recalled me directly, and when I entered had banknotes in his hand, which he must have taken from the envelope of my letter. (This involved rising.) He said: "I cannot live, I fear, to your birthday—I want to make you a present—I think I have heard you say that you should like a stop-watch—I have made careful inquiries as to the price—and have saved—as I believe— sufficient." He then gave me notes, and the key of a desk in London, in the secret drawer of which I should find the remaining money. He then gave me the disposition of his papers and manuscripts, directing that what I did not want should go to the British Museum. He then said: "I have nothing more to say but that you have fulfilled—my every hope—beyond all measure—and—I am deeply—grateful."
'He died in my presence on Wednesday, 10th, at half-past one, in
perfect peace.'
[Illustration: MR. C. W. DILKE.
From the painting by Arthur Hughes ]
CHAPTER V
LAST TERMS AT THE UNIVERSITY
After his grandfather's death Charles Dilke went away alone on a walking tour in Devon. The death of his grandfather was hardly realized at first; 'the sense of loss' deepened: 'it has been greater with me every year that followed.' He corresponded with his college friends, and of this date is a letter of remonstrance at his overstudious habits from the sententious H. D. Warr:
"My dear Dilke will forgive me if I say that, though I honour him much for his many strong and good qualities, I think he is far too given to laborious processes in work and social life…. My warm regard for you rests to some extent on my very high appreciation of your strength and consistency of character: you have always appeared to me to be a supremely honest man, almost comically so, at least when I am in a profane humour: I do not know that anything you could do would possibly make me like you better. But I think if you gave yourself a little wider fling and liberty, and did not walk always as it were on the seam of the carpet, it would be better; there would be less to lean on in you, perhaps, but if possible more to love."
Charles Dilke used to say that Fawcett and Warr had between them cured him of that priggishness which he often recalled with amusement. Almost inevitably his grandfather's devotion, the absolute engrossment of so considerable a personality in his least important concerns, would emphasize the inclination to take himself over-seriously which is marked in every clever and resolute young man.
In the beginning of 1865 he won the college essay prize for the second time. A pile of dockets from the British Museum shows that, as soon as coming of age qualified him to be a reader there, he plunged deep into all the works on ideal commonwealths to complete his survey of 'forms of government'—the subject indicated by Pope's couplet, which had appealed so strongly both to his grandfather and himself. This was a side issue. Beading for his Tripos went on with unremitting energy, and he had in use ninety-four notebooks crammed with analyses. In June, 1865, he was announced Senior Legalist, easily at the head of the law students of his year, thus crowning his college successes by the highest University distinction open to a man who followed that course.
A month before he entered for the Tripos, he had stroked the college boat, which was head of the river. Trinity Hall, however, retained its pride of place only for one day, and it was no small achievement to accomplish even this, since Third Trinity, who bumped them on the second night, were a wonderful crew, with five University oars, 'including some of the most distinguished Eton oars that ever rowed.' [Footnote: The Memoir details them: 'Chambers, the winner of the pairs, sculls, and "walk," President of the University Boat Club, and afterwards Secretary of the Amateur Athletic Club; Kinglake, afterwards President of the University Boat Club; W. E. Griffith, afterwards President of the University Boat Club, and formerly stroke of the finest Eton eight ever seen; Selwyn, afterwards Bishop of Melanesia, stroke of the University eight; and C. B. Lawes, afterwards the well-known sculptor, who had been captain of the Boats at Eton, and who had won the Diamond Sculls and the amateur championship of the Thames, and had rowed stroke of the University crew the year after Selwyn.'] The Hall had only one 'blue,' Steavenson, but to Charles Dilke himself had been offered in February, 1865, and was offered again in 1866, the place of 'seven' in the University eight. He declined on grounds of health, fearing the strain of the four-mile course on his heart. A note added later says regretfully: 'I believe that I was unduly frightened by my doctor, and that I might have rowed.'
To be Senior Legalist and to stroke the first boat on the river in the same term was an unusual combination: in the next Charles Dilke added to it the Presidency of the Union. The new Union buildings were now in process of construction, and he had done more than any other man to bring them from a derisive by-word into solid realization of brick and mortar. He took credit to himself for 'the selection of Waterhouse as architect against Gilbert Scott and Digby Wyatt.' Care to see this business fully through was one of the reasons which determined him to come up for a fourth year, and to hold the Presidency a second time in the Lent term of 1866. On his retirement he proposed Lord Edmond Fitzmaurice for his successor, and thus left the lead in hands he could trust.
Of his own speeches he has preserved some detail, showing how early his opinions displayed the character which was to be constant in them:
'In 1864-65 I spoke twice at the Union [Footnote: After Dilke's death, when a resolution of regret was carried at the Union, the Vice- President, Mr. J. H. Allen of Jesus, said in moving it: "Sir Charles was in a double sense the architect of the fortunes of the Society, because he was responsible for the superintendence of the change from the old inadequate home in Queens' Street into the more glorious building which they now enjoyed. It was for that reason that on two occasions the Society elected him to the highest position which they could confer."] in favour of the foreign policy of Lord Palmerston, opposing several of my friends who were condemning it. Cobden at the time was attacking supposed extravagance, based, as he thought, on panic, and I sided with Palmerston in thinking that the enormous increase of the French Navy could only be intended for an anti-English policy, while in the event of even the temporary loss of the command of the Channel, invasion by an immense French army would become possible. To Poland I was friendly, but unwilling to contemplate, as Lord Palmerston was unwilling to contemplate, interference by England in alliance with the Emperor Napoleon. I was so far from strongly taking the Danish side in the war that I chose the opportunity to put up in my rooms at Cambridge a photograph of Bismarck, for whom I had a considerable admiration. I had made Lord Palmerston's acquaintance during the Exhibition in '62 (to the ceremonies of which I also owed that of Auber, Meyerbeer, and many other distinguished people), but I do not think that the chat of the jaunty old gentleman in his last days had had any effect upon my views, and I was certainly more pro- German than was Palmerston, who was not pro-anything except pro- English.'[Footnote: For Sir Charles's opinion of Lord Palmerston, see vol. ii., p. 493. ]
The best speech, in Dilke's own opinion, that he made during 1866 was in opposition to the proposal to congratulate Governor Eyre upon his suppression of 'the supposed insurrection in Jamaica.' This was the first of the many occasions on which Sir Charles Dilke criticized the severity of white men towards natives in the name of civilized government.
Fuller anticipation of the views he supported in Parliament is to be found in his speeches on home politics. In the spring of 1866 the country was violently agitated over the Reform Bill introduced by Lord Russell, who had become Prime Minister on the death of Lord Palmerston in 1865. Of course there was a debate at the Union, and it was prolonged to a second night. Dilke writes:
'I took up for the first time broad democratic ground. Attacking the famous speech of Mr. Lowe, [Footnote: Mr. Lowe had asked in the debate on the "Representation of the People Bill," as reported in Hansard, on March 13th, 1866: "If you want venality, ignorance, drunkenness; if you want impulsive, unreflecting, violent people, where do you look for them? Do you go to the top, or to the bottom?"] I declared that so far was I from agreement with these calumnies, that I was of opinion that those homely and truly English qualities which had to some slight extent grown slack among the upper classes were to be met with in all their strength as much in the more intelligent portion of the now unrepresented classes, as among those familiarly styled "their betters." With regard to the question of the fitness of the artisans for the franchise, I argued that they had not to decide for themselves between Austria and Prussia in the Holstein question, but had to decide between candidates who would settle the more abstruse questions for them. The middle classes, I contended, could as a body do no more, and the artisan was just as competent to judge of honesty and ability as the £10 householder; and less likely to be influenced by bribery and intimidation, as being more independent and more fearless of consequences. Moreover, any attempt to keep the great mass of the people from all share of political power seemed to me idle: whether we liked their advent to government or whether we feared it, it was inevitable, and the longer we delayed to prepare for it the worse it would be for so-called Conservative interests when it came. I contended that the working man had proportionately a greater stake in the country than the rich; that the taxes which he paid were a vastly more serious matter to him than those which the rich paid were to them, and that a hundred of the laws passed by Parliament vitally affected the interests of the working people to one which injured those of the upper class.'
For a young man whose political views were so maturely thought out, debate was no mere exercitation; his education was fast passing into apprenticeship for public life; and in February, 1865, his father, Sir Wentworth Dilke, coming forward at a by-election in the Liberal interest for Wallingford, gave the Union debater his first chance on a public platform.
Long afterwards, when Sir Charles Dilke was travelling down to the Forest of Dean with a party of guests and friends, one of them, looking out as the train swept along the Thames Valley, caught sight of a little white church nestling under a hill and asked, "Is that Cholsey?" Sir Charles turned round in his eager way: "What, do you know this district? Yes, that is Cholsey;" and went on to tell how intimate he had become with all the villages round Wallingford when speaking and canvassing for his father, and how the experience gained among the Berkshire peasants had supplied valuable lessons for his own contests in later years.
Sir Wentworth was elected, and Lord Granville, who had a real friendship for him, wrote, in a spirit very typical of the traditional view: "I know no one to whom Parliamentary life will afford more interest and amusement." Charles Dilke's conception of Parliamentary life was very different from that of his father, and from that which Lord Granville indicated. On the other hand, the son seemed to the father deficient in appreciation of the pleasures acceptable to himself:
'One of the difficulties between my father and myself about this period arose from his vexation at my refusing to take part in the shooting-parties at Alice Holt. He was passionately fond of shooting; … I had now but little sympathy with the amusement, and had shown my dislike for it in many ways.'
Yet despite differences, the father was immensely proud of his son, and consulted him in regard to the younger brother's education. In his reply Charles Dilke discussed the view of certain Dons who held that the cultivated English gentleman ought not to go in for honours at all, and admitted that "reading for a high place here involves loss of many pleasures, of almost all society; it makes a man fretful, and often leaves him behind the world; as an education for the mind it is not so good as the self-education of a non-honours man ought to be, but never is." He thought, nevertheless, that classics—of which he avowed himself "more ignorant than an English gentleman ought to be"—offered the field in which success was best worth having. He himself "would gladly be put back to fourteen or fifteen, and 'grind my life out' till two-and-twenty, in order to get a high place in the first-class classics." But it must be all or nothing. A second-class he dismissed as not worth winning. Moreover, "if the boy has not a high standard set up for him, he will do nothing whatever, which is far worse than doing too much."
Meanwhile, in the midst of all that full college life which was becoming more and more definitely a preparation for the political career, he was trying his strength in the field of journalism.
His grandfather had never ceased to impress upon him that every public man should have learned and practised thoroughly the craft of writing. This precept allied itself with the inherited ownership of a great literary journal; and very shortly after old Mr. Dilke's death the undergraduate, as he then was, began to associate himself actively with the work of the Athenaeum. His first published writing in it appeared on October 22nd, 1864, when he reviewed a well-known work on economics by the writer whom the Memoir styles 'that dull Frenchman, Le Play.' [Footnote: French Senator, son-in-law of the celebrated economist Michel Chevalier. He wrote works on the principles of agriculture, the application of chemistry to agriculture, and kindred subjects.] Le Play wrote from Paris to thank Sir Wentworth Dilke for a copy of the article which had been sent him, and had already attracted attention in France:
"On y trouve un sentiment de vrai progrès et une intelligence de la vie pratique qui se rencontrent rarement chez nos critiques."
The British Museum tickets show the course of reading which Charles Dilke was pursuing at this period: Bacon, Filmer, Mandeville, Hume, represent the older English writers on Commonwealths, ideal and actual; Crousaz, Condorcet, Diderot, Linguet, Fénelon, Helvétius, stood for the influences of eighteenth-century France. With them were writers more recondite; the Mundus Alter et Idem of "Britannicus," Barclay his Argenis, Holberg's Journey in the Underworld, Sadeur's Terre Australe Connue, Ned Lane's Excellencie of a Free State, were all out-of-the-way books with an antiquarian flavour. Of recent or contemporary authors, Montalembert was included, with Proudhon, as were men whom Charles Dilke came to know personally—Émile de Girardin, Michel Chevalier, and, a close friend afterwards, Louis Blanc. Works of Mohl and Willick brought in the Germans, and a volume of the Federalist introduced him to that great American commonwealth which he was soon to visit. A sheaf of dockets for works upon the Swedenborgian Association and theories complete this very extensive range of reading, which may be supplemented by the following note of his own:
"Favourite books, 1864 (in themselves—for no object):
"Shakespeare.
"The Bible.
"J. S. Mill: Political Economy; On Liberty; Dissertations.
"Longfellow: Evangeline and Miles Standish.
"Homer: Works.
"Tennyson: nearly all.
"Plato: Republic.
"Sir P. Sidney: Arcadia.
"Claude Adrien Helvétius: Works.
"Victor Hugo: Les Misérables.
"William Godwin: Political Justice."
He notes also in the Memoir that the reading of Mill at this period marked the beginning of Mill's influence over him. This influence was a great factor in Dilke's life, and, when it passed into a personal relation, became almost one of discipleship.
His taste for Victor Hugo led him to write in the Athenaeum a long notice of Les Travailleurs de la Mer in 1866, when that romance appeared; but another article about the same period on international law indicates the main bent of his studies.
As early as the Long Vacation of 1864, in the course of preparing his essay on forms of government, he had found himself tracing 'the future of the Anglo-Saxon race both in the United States and Australasia'; and he thus, without knowing it, laid the foundation lines of Greater Britain. Also, in 1865, 'I had already dreamt of visiting and writing upon Russia, a country which always had a great hold on my imagination.' Another project of these undergraduate years was less his own than his grandfather's. Old Mr. Dilke contemplated a universal catalogue of books, to be prepared by international action. This scheme was completely abandoned, yet it is interesting that the grandson entertained it. The scholar, not merely the lover, but the active servant, of learning, was always present in Charles Dilke's many-sided personality, though never dominant. We approach the central preoccupations of his mind with the History of Prevalent Opinions in Politics, towards which 'a great deal of work' was done by him in the winter of 1864-65. In 1866 the same underlying group of ideas took form in the outline of a treatise on Radicalism.
In working for this he read 'most of the writers upon the theory of politics—Hooker, Montesquieu, Rousseau, Linguet, Locke, Bentham, and many more.' 'Many more' included some very unusual reading; for the plan of his book was in three chapters, 'the first chapter being upon the Radicalism of the days before the coming of Jesus; the second chapter upon the period between the teaching of our Lord and 1789; and the third on Radicalism in modern history.' In the second part he 'gave much space to Arius, Huss, Wyclif, Savonarola, Vane, Roger Williams, Baxter, Fox, Zinzendorf, and other religious reformers.' All this reading taught him the 'extent to which forgotten doctrines come up again, and are known by the names of men who have but revived them'; and, on the other hand, how doctrines change and degenerate while keeping the original name.
'In the sketch of my book, so far as it was worked out, I gave much space to the falling-off in the Church from the Radicalism of primitive Christianity…. It began with a definition of Radicalism as a going to the root of things, which naturally led to the doctrine of the perfectibility of man, and, quoting the gospels freely, I attempted to prove the essential Radicalism of Christ's teaching.'