“As to what has happened since I went away, I for my own humble part am heartily pleased, for it will clear the air.  If we are to have democracy, as I suppose we are, let us go into it with our eyes open.  I don’t like drifting among cataracts, hiding the reality from ourselves by forms which are not allowed either sense or power.  That I suppose to be Lord Salisbury’s feeling.  I greatly admired his speech in Cannon Street, which reminded me of a talk I had with him long ago at Hatfield.  If the result is a change in the Constitution of the House of Lords which will make it a real power, no one will be more sorry than Chamberlain, whose own wish is to keep it in the condition of ornamental helplessness.  Lord Derby himself can hardly wish to see the country entirely in the hands of a single irresponsible Chamber elected by universal suffrage—­and of such a Chamber, which each extension of the suffrage brings to a lower intellectual level.”

The following letter was written from Salcombe just after the General Election of 1886 and the defeat of Home Rule: 

“A Devonshire farmer fell ill of typhus fever once.  He had quarrelled with a neighbour, and the clergyman told him that he must not die out of charity, and must see the man and shake hands with him.  He agreed.  The man came.  They were reconciled, and he was going away again when the sick farmer called him back to the bed-side.  ‘Mind you,’ he said, ’if so be as I get over this here, ’tis to be as ‘twas.’

“I am sorry to see we are taking for granted that we have got over the scare, and that ’’tis to be as ‘twas’ in Parliament.  If no way can be found of giving effect to the feeling of which has been just expressed, the old enemy will be back again stronger than ever.  I, for my small part, shall finally despair of Parliamentary Government, and shall pray for a Chamberlain Dictatorship.  I do not think politicians know how slight the respect which is now generally felt for Parliament, or how weary sensible people have grown of it and its factions.

“We are very happy down here.  We have lost the Molt, but have a very tolerable substitute for it.  The Halifaxes are at the Molt themselves, and considering what I am, and that he is the President of the Church Union, I think he and I are both astonished to find how well we get on together.  The Colonists come next week to Plymouth.  I have promised to meet them.  Their dinner will be the exact anniversary of the arrival of the Armada off the harbour.  That was the beginning of the English naval greatness and of the English Colonial Empire.  Think of poor Oceana—­75,000 copies of it sold.  It stands for something that the English nation is interested in....  But I must not try your eyes any further.”