Bastards vs The Rest: From the highest to the lowest, the Conservatives are bitterly divided. Stephen Castle and Paul Routledge report

WITHIN minutes of the end of the Queen's Speech last Thursday, Conservative MPs were sipping champagne and nibbling caviar canapes at a reception in Westminster Hall, the most ancient part of the Houses of Parliament. Their talk, however, was not about the programme for the new session which had just been announced. Nor was it about the good unemployment figures that had just emerged, nor even about the Prime Minister's initiative to bring peace to Northern Ireland. Backbenchers had more pressing anxieties.

If the 'back to basics' message of the Queen's Speech was calculated to pull the Tories together, MPs knew that any unity it conjured up would be little more than cosmetic. Already last week, fresh divisions between ministers had opened up over Europe, with the Chancellor endorsing European monetary union, and over health service reform. John Major's Cabinet was hardly offering an example of harmony.

What really dominated conversation in Westminster Hall was the prospects for this week's elections to the executive of the 1922 Committee. To outsiders, this backbench Tory affair may seem a minor matter, but at Westminster it is seen as a vital battle in the war for the soul of the party. One veteran Conservative MP confessed that there was 'more bitterness than I've seen in all my years in Parliament'.

Major may be enjoying a respite from the savage backbiting of the autumn, but his party is still divided, and the split runs from its highest reaches to its lowest.

AT LAST month's Conservative Party Conference in Blackpool, the right stole the show, with speakers such as Michael Howard, the Home Secretary, and Peter Lilley, the Secretary of State for Social Security, setting their stamp on proceedings in triumphant fashion.

John Patten, the Secretary of State for Education and not traditionally viewed as a right- winger, soon took up their banner in a speech urging schools to fly the Union flag. Meanwhile Michael Portillo, the very dry Chief Secretary to the Treasury, has given a number of frank broadcast interviews putting forward his dry-as-dust economic views, in the latest of which he suggested that those under the age of 40 should not rely on the state pension.

Here, it seemed, was a concerted attempt to define a new Tory agenda after the bitter period of drift and division since Black Wednesday. There would be aggressive measures to fight crime, new wars on Government waste and on scroungers, and cuts in public spending rather than new taxes. Europe, it seemed, was a dead letter, indeed to judge by the boos and hisses at Blackpool, 'foreigner' had become a dirty word.

John Major's closing speech to the party conference and his various outings since have redeemed his personal position, which seemed precarious in September. But they have done little to rein in his right- wing colleagues, even though some were surely among the 'bastards' of whom he once complained in an unguarded moment. Indeed it is difficult at times to distinguish his current back-to-basics theme from their ideas, even if he uses language with wider appeal.

Yet an agenda of the right does not represent a consensus in the Conservative Party, in the Parliamentary Party or in the Cabinet. There is a deep resentment on the centre and left at the activities and presumptions of Howard, Lilley and the rest. But not for the first time in the past 14 years, this moderate wing has been slow to mount a public challenge.

One minister last week confided his fear that the next general election will be lost because of the lurch rightwards. The new approach, even in its back- to-basics form, is miles away from the one which delivered the Tory victory at the last general election, the minister argued. Then, the Prime Minister articulated a softer, more human version of Thatcherism; now his party seems more Thatcherite than ever.

The minister added: 'We are landing ourselves with one series of ideas which are not particularly attractive to the punter, such as attacks on single parents, and another on law and order which are going to be difficult to deliver. As for Patten - he's a disaster.'

Another minister from the centre of the party added: 'I am immensely worried by Michael Howard and law and order. The whole back-to-basics theme has developed in an incoherent way that illustrates the danger of setting out these concepts without knowing where you are supposed to be going.'

It was in Harrogate, at the Confederation of British Industry's annual conference last week, that the first open riposte from the left was delivered. Michael Heseltine, President of the Board of Trade, in his first big speech since returning to work after his heart attack, assailed the new 'insular' attitudes to Europe, pointing out that two-thirds of British exports go there.

Heseltine took pains to stress that the language he disliked had not come from Downing Street. There seemed little doubt that what he had in mind was a speech by Peter Lilley at Blackpool, in which he mimicked European accents.

Kenneth Clarke followed this by declaring that, despite all the events of the past 18 months, he still supported the Maastricht objective of economic and monetary union and his quarrel was only with the timetable set out by the treaty. Not in itself a sensational announcement, this was still a deliberate red rag to the right.

THE traffic has not all been one way. Perhaps the most surprising events of last week arose from a speech made by John Redwood, the Secretary of State for Wales, in which he attacked the bureaucracy surrounding the National Health Service, partly as a result of the internal market being implemented by Virginia Bottomley, Secretary of State for Health.

It has been construed as a right-wing dig against a middle- of-the-road minister, and the circumstances in which it became known bear examination. Initially, the speech was almost ignored by the media. Although the Welsh Office contacted a number of newspapers to draw their attention to the speech, and some journalists spoke directly to Mr Redwood, the story received little prominence on Tuesday. The text, after all, contained no explicit criticism of the Health Secretary.

But the following day, half- a-dozen political editors and commentators were summoned to a private briefing at Redwood's office in Gwydyr House, five minutes' walk up Whitehall from the Commons. It was from this meeting that some of the journalists emerged convinced that the Redwood speech constituted a coded - or even open - attack on Bottomley.

The next morning, the Daily Telegraph led its front page with the story and the Times (which was not at the Tuesday briefing) revived its story of the day before. Other papers took a more low-key view, but a 'ministerial row' was born.

The Opposition exploited the apparent rift. David Blun kett, Labour's health spokesman, said: 'The Cabinet was clearly split over the effect of the Government's NHS changes. John Redwood spotted what some of us have seen for the last couple of years, namely the increase in bureaucracy without any real gains for patients.' In a rather embarrassing climbdown, Redwood telephoned Bottomley to explain his comments.

The reaction from Downing street was instructive. There, it was said that Redwood was in the 'classic mould of Welsh Secretaries' who 'have their responsibilities and . . . talk about them'. Whether this was to be welcomed or regretted was not made explicit, but the lukewarm tone suggested the latter. Ministers need no reminding that the 'classic' Welsh Secretary was Peter (now Lord) Walker who was semi-detached from the Thatcher administration for much of the 1980s.

What is going on here is public sparring between ministers, open manoeuvring for policies and for position. Cabinet divisions of one kind or another are probably the norm rather than the exception in Britain, but they are not often so wide as this, nor so freely aired. Europe, tax, welfare, VAT on fuel, the causes of crime; all these are issues central to the Government's future, and in the absence of a clear lead from John Major any one of them seems to have the potential to pull the party in two.

IF HARROGATE saw the first shots fired in the fightback against the right, the next salvo is due this week. Tory backbenchers exasperated by the behaviour of the anti-Maastricht rebels and the hard right in general intend to take full advantage of the opportunity offered by this week's 1922 Committee elections.

In recent weeks, there has been intense behind-the-scenes activity to maximise the centre- left vote, with the intention of ousting hardliners. The old- style 'wets' of the Lollard Group - so named because they held their first meeting in the mid-Seventies in the Lollards' Tower at Lambeth Palace, where one member had a flat - have joined forces with disillusioned 'dries' to form a new body, the Mainstream Group. Its pounds 25-a-head inaugural dinner took place at the St Stephen's Club in Westminster two weeks ago, and more than 60 MPs turned up to plot the downfall of the right, and many more sent messages of support.

Within days of that gathering, the same venue was used by the powerful right-wing 92 group (named after the house number of its first chairman, Patrick Wall) for their 80- strong dinner. The election of the 18-member executive of the 1922 Committee has turned into a trial of strength between these two groups.

Which has won will become clear on Thursday, when Tory MPs troop into Room 14 on the committee corridor to vote. Only backbenchers may vote, and one junior minister watching the spectacle said: 'Up to now, the 92 Group has been much better at getting people to vote right down the slate. The other side has been less well organised. The formation of Mainstream could be a most significant development. If everyone votes the full ticket, they will be the majority group.'

Mainstream's chief target is Sir George Gardiner, MP for Reigate, a member of the 1922 executive since 1987, and chairman of the 92 group since 1984. He voted against the Government consistently on the Maastricht Bill, and his head would be a satisfying political prize. It would, they argue, signal to the party at large and to the voters that the Conservative 'lurch to the right' has been greatly exaggerated.

One leading Mainstream figure insisted: 'Our general objective is to restore some balance in the unity of the party. We have had enough of factions, and particularly the committee of the 22, who are really getting far too sectional and greedy.' The Mainstream group claim they are 'not trying to sweep the board', and would be content with ousting a maximum of five or a minimum of three.

There is no shortage of targets. John Townend, the MP for Bridlington who also chairs the Tory backbench Finance Committee, is strongly tipped for removal. James Pawsey (Rugby), is mentioned as a likely prospect, as are Ivan Lawrence (Burton), Bob Dunn (Dartford), and Marion Roe (Broxbourne). Sir Rhodes Boyson (Brent North), an outspoken ex-minister, is another name in the frame.

The right is not surrendering. 'They are presuming on the allegiance of people who they cannot count on,' insists one 92 Group source. 'There has been a bit of a backlash over the past few days. Many backbenchers don't want to fight the Maastricht battle all over again in these elections. And it is helpful to the Prime Minister if the 1922 executive really does represent all sections of the party because it acts as a kind of safety valve. If we were simply an extension of the Whips' Office, then the '22 (group) somehow loses its purpose.'

Right-wingers point to Sir George Gardiner's formidable track record. A confidant of Baroness Thatcher, who knighted him in her resignation honours list, Sir George has a mild manner that belies his effectiveness. He has built up the 92 Group into a well-disciplined fighting machine able to count on the support of 90 to 100 MPs. In the end, the contest will probably hinge on fewer than 30 undecided MPs, and discipline could prove the determining factor.

And the conflict will not end with the 1922 Committee. The influential chairmanships of several backbench Tory Committees are also up for grabs, and the warfare will be continued there.

WHERE, in all this, does John Major stand? Some Mainstream MPs say that he is discreetly supporting their initiative. 'I have absolutely no doubt that the Governmnent will be popping champagne corks if we manage to rectify these committees,' declared a Mainstream strategist. 'It begins to establish firmer unity in the party.'

Others are less sure that Major wants to see blood on the carpet of committee room 14. 'He does not want wholesale revenge (against right-wing Maastricht rebels), but he certainly does not mind if certain 'S-H-one-Ts' get their comeuppance. I'm talking about people who engaged in plotting, talking to opposition whips and that sort of thing,' one minister said.

Another added: 'He is in a bridge-building mood. That is not to say that some loyalists may not be out to do what they see as his bidding.'

Faced with a divided party, Major's strategy has been to shave the Queen's speech of its most contentious elements, thereby reducing the scope for internal conflicts and parliamentary rebellions. Out has gone legislation to privatise the Royal Mail and to deregulate London buses.

Both Michael Portillo and the Secretary of State for Transport, John MacGregor, fought hard for London bus deregulation, but to no avail; when confronted with a measure which might damage the Tories' prospects in next year's London elections, Major backed off. It is a holding programme designed to keep backbenchers as quiet as possible until the economy comes right.

Simultaneously, Major has moved on to new political territory: the search for peace in Northern Ireland, which he unexpectedly highlighted last week both in his Guildhall speech and again on Thursday. On both occasions the passages relating to the province were inserted late, reflecting a last- minute decision to keep up the momentum on Northern Ireland. While this has won him deserved plaudits, it has also proved conveniently uncontentious in the party.

But this could be the calm before the political storm. The Budget on 30 November could outrage one wing of the Tory Party if it levies too much tax, or the other if its compensation package for the imposition of VAT on fuel is judged too miserly. Europe, too, is not going away. There are European elections next May and the thorny matter of a manifesto has to be confronted.

MPs will also have to vote on the new budget for Brussels, which involves an increase in Britain's contributions. And monetary union, the issue resurrected by Kenneth Clarke, cannot be put off for ever since another intergovernmental conference looms in 1995.

What looked a good week for the Prime Minister, filled with favourable economic figures, has left many colleagues uneasy. One Whitehall source said: 'Mr Major will only solve his problems by reaching out to the public, rather than binding together an uncontentious programme. If you look weak as a political leader you only encourage dissent.'

'It has', said one former minister, 'the air of Heath about it, heading off into the quagmire of Ulster politics.' And back to basics? 'It may divert attention, but the underlying splits are all there.'

(Photographs omitted)