Winston Churchill - His Grace and Goodwill
I've been thinking recently about Winston Churchill's grace and goodwill - an under-appreciated aspect of his character. For example (in fact, three examples):
Lord Beaverbrook, the owner of Britain’s largest newspaper, and later a Cabinet Minister, was at different times Churchill’s greatest antagonist and most trusted confidante. Beaverbrook intended to publish a book – Churchill’s Victory – after Churchill’s death. Beaverbrook, however, preceded Churchill into Heaven (presumably) by half a year. During the course of his writing, Beaverbrook told an aide how he planned to treat Churchill in his published work:
Churchill is essentially a man without rancor. He has been accused of being bad-tempered. It isn’t true. He could get very emotional, but after bitterly criticizing you he had a habit of touching you, of putting his hand on your hand – like that – as if to say that his real feelings for you were not changed. A wonderful display of humanity
Beaverbrook shared with another associate: “Churchill was always a better friend to his friends than they were to him.”
I’ve shared this next story before. It is so simple and yet so remarkable that it fits here as well:
Rab Butler was considered by John Colville “one of the most eminent British statesmen of the mid-twentieth century.” Butler held multiple ministerial posts during his career. He was an ardent appeaser and was extremely loyal to Neville Chamberlain. Butler and Churchill were ideological opposites for decades. He once called Churchill “a half-breed American.” And yet, after becoming Prime Minister, Churchill summoned Butler to the Cabinet Room to ask him to retain his position as Foreign Office Under Secretary.
Butler shares so much fascinating detail in his story of that meeting, that I cannot begin to paraphrase it. Here is Butler’s account.
“I was sent for by the new Prime Minister who was sitting in the Cabinet Room, his face flushed, his eyes gleaming, trying to light the remains of a very wet, half-bitten-through cigar with the aid of a Bunsen burner. He came to the point at once: “I wish you to go on with your delicate manner of answering parliamentary questions without giving anything away.’ I said, ‘Thank you very much. We have disagreed a great deal in the past; now I shall do my best to serve you.’ He bowed very formally. We discussed whether, like his predecessor, he wished me to bring Foreign Office parliamentary questions to him, and he indicated that he would be too busy with other things. He showed me the message he was sending next day to Mussolini (‘Down the ages above all other calls comes the cry that the joint heirs of Latin and Christian civilization must not be ranged against one another in mortal strife’), which I noted would rank with some of the greatest expressions of history. Finally, I was given insights into the reasons for my reappointment which could not have been obtained at second hand from his entourage. He said, ‘Although we have had disagreements, you once asked me to your private residence.’ ‘That was not very remarkable,’ I pointed out. ‘No,’ he replied, ‘but it shows goodwill.’”
John Colville, Churchill’s Principal Private Secretary during most of the war, is best known for The Fringes of Power, the published version of his diaries. Colville also wrote several other interesting books, including Winston Churchill and His Inner Circle, in which he shared:
I thought it remarkable that, disliked by so many in his youth and presumably both snubbed and thwarted, he never spoke ill of his critics in later days. He remembered kindnesses he had received and opportunities he had been given. Whether deliberately or not, he seemed to have obliterated the other side of the coin from his memory altogether. One day during the Second World War, he said to me, “I hate nobody except Hitler – and that is professional.”
Thanks for reading,
Bill