CHAPTER XLIII

I BECOME ONE OF THE CHOSEN OF THE NATION

An entire revulsion in my feelings and my way of thinking was caused by

this sudden change of prospect. A member of our Parliament, I could then

write to Ottilia, and tell her that I had not wasted time. And it was

due to my father, I confessed, when he returned from his ball at dawn, .

that I should thank him for speaking to Graf Kesensky. 'Oh!' said he,

'that was our luck, Richie. I have been speaking about you to hundreds

for the last six months, and now we owe it to a foreigner!' I thanked him

again. He looked eminently handsome in his Henry III. costume, and was

disposed to be as luxurious as his original. He had brought Count Lika,

Secretary of Legation to the Austrian Embassy, dressed as an Albanian,

with him. The two were stretched on couches, and discoursing of my

father's reintroduction of the sedan chair to society. My father

explained that he had ordered a couple of dozen of these chairs to be

built on a pattern of his own. And he added, 'By the way, Richie, there

will be sedaniers--porters to pay to-day. Poor men should be paid

immediately.' I agreed with the monarch. Contemplating him, I became

insensible to the sting of ridicule which had been shooting through me,

agonizing me for the last eight-and-forty hours. Still I thought: can I

never escape from the fascination?--let me only get into Parliament!

The idea in me was that Parliament lifted me nearer to Ottilia, and would

prompt me to resolute action, out of his tangle of glittering cobwebs.

I told him of my interview with Beauchamp Hill. 'I have never known

Kesensky wrong yet,' said he; 'except in his backing of Falmouth's

horses.' Count Lika murmured that he hoped his Chief would be wrong in

something else: he spoke significantly. My father raised his eyebrows.

'In his opinion,' Lika accepted the invitation to pursue, 'Prince Ernest

will not let that announcement stand uncontradicted.'

My father's eyes dwelt on him. 'Are we accused of it?'

Lika slipped from the question. 'Who is accused of a newspaper's doings?

It is but the denial of a statement.'

'I dare them to deny it!--and, Lika, my dear fellow, light me a

cigarette,' said my father.

'Then,' said Lika, touching the flame delicately, 'you take the view that

Kesensky is wrong in another thing besides horses.'

I believe he struck on the subject casually: there was nothing for him to

gain or lose in it; and he had a liking for my father.

After puffing the cigarette twice or thrice my father threw it down,

resuming his conversation upon the sedan, the appropriate dresses of

certain of the great masquerading ladies, and an incident that appeared

to charge Jorian DeWitt with having misconducted himself. The moment

Lika had gone upstairs for two or three hours' sleep, he said to me:

'Richie, you and I have no time for that. We must have a man at

Falmouth's house by eight o'clock. If the scrubbing-maid on all fours-

not an inelegant position, I have remarked--declares him dead, we are at

Bartlett's (money-lender) by ten: and in Chippenden borough before two

post meridian. As I am a tactician, there is mischief! but I will turn

it to my uses, as I did our poor Jorian to-night; he smuggled in the

Chassediane: I led her out on my arm. Of that by and by. The point is,

that from your oath in Parliament you fly to Sarkeld. I implore you now,

by your love for me and the princess, not to lose precious minutes.

Richie, we will press things so that you shall be in Sarkeld by the end

of the month. My son! my dear boy! how you loved me once!--you do still!

then follow my directions. I have a head. Ay, you think it wild?

'Tis true, my mother was a poetess. But I will convince my son as I am

convincing the world-tut, tut! To avoid swelling talk, I tell you,

Richie, I have my hand on the world's wheel, and now is the time for you

to spring from it and gain your altitude. If you fail, my success is

emptiness.'

'Will you avoid Edbury and his like, and protect yourself?' was my form

of stipulation, spoken to counteract his urgency.

He gave no answer beyond a wave of the hand suitable to his princely one-

coloured costume of ruffled lavender silk, and the magnificent leg he

turned to front me. My senses even up to that period were so

impressionable as to be swayed by a rich dress and a grand manner when

circumstances were not too unfavourable. Now they seemed very

favourable, for they offered me an upward path to tread. His appearance

propitiated me less after he had passed through the hands of his man

Tollingby, but I had again surrendered the lead to him. As to the risk

of proceedings being taken against him, he laughed scornfully at the

suggestion. 'They dare not. The more I dare, the less dare they.'

Again I listened to his curious roundabout reasoning, which dragged

humour at its heels like a comical cur, proclaiming itself imposingly,

in spite of the mongrel's barking, to be prudence and common sense.

Could I deny that I owed him gratitude for the things I cherished most?

--for my acquaintance with Ottilia?--for his services in Germany?--for

the prospect of my elevation in England? I could not; and I tried hard

to be recklessly grateful. As to money, he reiterated that he could put

his hand on it to satisfy the squire on the day of accounts: for the

present, we must borrow. His argument upon borrowing--which I knew well,

and wondered that I did not at the outset disperse with a breath of

contempt--gained on me singularly when reviewed under the light of my

immediate interests: it ran thus:--We have a rich or a barren future,

just as we conceive it. The art of generalship in life consists in

gathering your scattered supplies to suit a momentous occasion; and it is

the future which is chiefly in debt to us, and adjures us for its sake to

fight the fight and conquer. That man is vile and fit to be trampled on

who cannot count his future in gold and victory. If, as we find, we are

always in debt to the past, we should determine that the future is in our

debt, and draw on it. Why let our future lie idle while we need succour?

For instance, to-morrow I am to have what saves my reputation in the

battle to-day; shall I not take it at once? The military commander who

acts on that principle overcomes his adversary to a certainty.

'You, Richie, the member for this borough of Chippenden, have won solid

ground. I guarantee it to you. And you go straight from the hustings,

or the first taste of parliamentary benches, to Sarkeld: you take your

grandad's proposition to Prince Ernest: you bring back the prince's

acceptance to the squire. Can you hope to have a princess without a

battle for her?' More and much more in this strain, until--for he could

read me and most human beings swiftly on the surface, notwithstanding the

pressure of his fancifulness--he perceived that talking influenced me far

less than activity, and so after a hurried breakfast and an innocuous

glance at the damp morning papers, we started to the money-lender's, with

Jennings to lend his name. We were in Chippenden close upon the hour my

father had named, bringing to the startled electors the first news of

their member's death.

During the heat of the canvass for votes I received a kind letter from

the squire in reply to one of mine, wherein he congratulated me on my

prospects of success, and wound up: 'Glad to see it announced you are off

with that princess of yours. Show them we are as proud as they are,

Harry, and a fig for the whole foreign lot! Come to Riversley soon, and

be happy.' What did that mean? Heriot likewise said in a letter: 'So

it's over? The proud prince kicks? You will not thank me for telling

you now what you know I think about it.' I appealed to my father.

'Canvass! canvass!' cried he; and he persistently baffled me. It was

from Temple I learnt that on the day of our starting for Chippenden, the

newspapers contained a paragraph in large print flatly denying upon

authority that there was any foundation for the report of an intended

marriage between the Princess of Eppenwelzen-Sarkeld and an English

gentleman. Then I remembered how that morning my father had flung the

papers down, complaining of their dampness.

Would such denial have appeared without Ottilia's sanction?

My father proved that I was harnessed to him; there was no stopping, no

time for grieving. Pace was his specific. He dragged me the round of

the voters; he gave dinners at the inn of true Liberals, and ate of them

contentedly; he delivered speeches incessantly. The whole force of his.

serio-comic genius was alive in its element at Chippenden. From balls

and dinners, and a sharp contest to maintain his position in town, he was

down among us by the first morning train, bright as Apollo, and quite the

sun of the place, dazzling the independent electors and their wives, and

even me somewhat; amazing me, certainly. Dettermain, his lawyer, who had

never seen him in action, and supposed he would treat an election as he

did his Case, with fits and starts of energy, was not less astonished,

and tried to curb him.

'Mr. Dettermain, my dear sir, I apprehend it is the electoral maxim to

woo the widowed borough with the tear in its eye, and I shall do so

hotly, in a right masculine manner,' my father said. 'We have the

start; and if we beat the enemy by nothing else we will beat him by

constitution. We are the first in the field, and not to reap it is to

acknowledge oneself deficient in the very first instrument with which

grass was cut.'

Our difficulty all through the election was to contend with his humour.

The many triumphs it won for him, both in speech and in action, turned at

least the dialectics of the argument against us, and amusing, flattering,

or bewildering, contributed to silence and hold us passive. Political

convictions of his own, I think I may say with truth, he had none. He

would have been just as powerful, after his fashion, on the Tory side,

pleading for Mr. Normanton Hipperdon; more, perhaps: he would have been

more in earnest. His store of political axioms was Tory; but he did

remarkably well, and with no great difficulty, in confuting them to the

wives of voters, to the voters themselves, and at public assemblies. Our

adversary was redoubtable; a promising Opposition member, ousted from his

seat in the North--a handsome man, too, which my father admitted, and

wealthy, being junior partner in a City banking firm. Anna Penrhys knew

him, and treacherously revealed some of the enemy's secrets, notably

concerning what he termed our incorrigible turn for bribery.

'And that means,' my father said, 'that Mr. Hipperdon does not possess

the art of talking to the ladies. I shall try him in repartee on the

hustings. I must contrive to have our Jorian at my elbow.'

The task of getting Jorian to descend upon such a place as Chippenden

worried my father more than electoral anxieties. Jorian wrote, 'My best

wishes to you. Be careful of your heads. The habit of the Anglo-Saxon

is to conclude his burlesques with a play of cudgels. It is his notion

of freedom, and at once the exordium and peroration of his eloquence.

Spare me the Sussex accent on your return.'

My father read out the sentences of this letter with admiring bursts of

indignation at the sarcasms, and an evident idea that I inclined to

jealousy of the force displayed.

'But we must have him,' he said; 'I do not feel myself complete without

Jorian.'

So he made dispositions for a concert to be given in Chippenden town.

Jenny Chassediane was invited down to sing, and Jorian came in her wake,

of course. He came to suffer tortures. She was obliging enough to

transform me into her weapon of chastisement upon the poor fellow for his

behaviour to her at the Ball-atrocious, I was bound to confess. On this

point she hesitated just long enough to imply a doubt whether, under any

circumstances, the dues of men should be considered before those of her

sex, and then struck her hands together with enthusiasm for my father,

who was, she observed--critical in millinery in the height of her

ecstasy--the most majestic, charming, handsome Henri III. imaginable,

the pride and glory of the assembly, only one degree too rosy at night

for the tone of the lavender, needing a touch of French hands, and the

merest trifle in want of compression about the waistband. She related

that a certain Prince Henri d'Angleterre had buzzed at his ear

annoyingly. 'Et Gascoigne, ou est-il?' called the King, and the Judge

stepped forth to correct the obstreperous youth. The Judge was Jennings,

clearly prepared by my father to foil the Prince--no other than Edbury.

It was incomprehensible to me that my father should tolerate the tatter's

pranks; unless, indeed, he borrowed his name to bonds of which I heard

nothing.

Mademoiselle Chassediane vowed that her own dress was ravishing. She

went attired as a boudoir-shepherdess or demurely-coquettish Sevres-china

Ninette, such of whom Louis Quinze would chuck the chin down the deadly

introductory walks of Versailles. The reason of her desiring to go was

the fatal sin of curiosity, and, therefore, her sex's burden, not hers.

Jorian was a Mousquetaire, with plumes and ruffles prodigious, and a

hen's heart beneath his cock's feathers. 'Pourtant j'y allai. I saw

your great ladies, how they carry themselves when they would amuse

themselves, and, mon Dieu! Paris has done its utmost to grace their

persons, and the length of their robes did the part of Providence in

bestowing height upon them, parceque, vous savez, Monsieur, c'est

extraordinaire comme ils ont les jambes courtes, ces Anglaises!' Our

aristocracy, however, was not so bad in that respect as our bourgeoisie;

yet it was easy to perceive that our female aristocracy, though they

could ride, had never been drilled to walk: 'de belles femmes, oui;

seulement, tenez, je n'admire ni les yeux de vache, ni de souris, ni mime

ceux de verre comme ornement feminin. Avec de l'embonpoint elles font de

l'effet, mais maigre il n'y a aucune illusion possible.'

This vindictive critic smarted, with cause, at the recollection of her

walk out of her rooms. Jorian's audacity or infatuation quitted him

immediately after he had gratified her whim. The stout Mousquetaire

placed her in a corner, and enveloped her there, declaring that her

petition had been that she might come to see, not to be seen,--as if, she

cried out tearfully, the two wishes must not necessarily exist together,

like the masculine and the feminine in this world! Prince Hal, acting

the most profligate period of his career, espied her behind the

Mousquetaire's moustache, and did not fail to make much of his discovery.

In a perilous moment for the reputation of the Ball, my father handed him

over to Gascoigne, and conducted Jenny in a leisurely walk on his arm out

of the rooms.

'Il est comme les Romains,' she said: 'he never despairs of himself.

It is a Jupiter! If he must punish you he confers a dignity in doing it.

Now I comprehend, that with such women as these grandes dames Anglaises

I should have done him harm but for his greatness of soul.'

Some harm, I fancied, must have been done, in spite of his boast to the

contrary. He had to be in London every other night, and there were tales

current of intrigues against him which had their sources from very lofty

regions. But in Chippenden he threw off London, just as lightly as in

London he discarded Chippenden. No symptom of personal discouragement,

or of fatigue, was betrayed in his face. I spoke once of that paragraph

purporting to emanate from Prince Ernest.

'It may,' he said. 'Business! Richie.'

He set to counting the promises of votes, disdaining fears and

reflections. Concerts, cricket-matches, Balls, dinner-parties, and the

round of the canvass, and speech-making at our gatherings, occupied every

minute of my time, except on Saturday evenings, when I rode over to

Riversley with Temple to spend the Sunday. Temple, always willing to

play second to me, and a trifle melancholy under his partial eclipse-

which, perhaps, suggested the loss of Janet to him--would have it that

this election was one of the realizations of our boyish dreams of

greatness. The ladies were working rosettes for me. My aunt Dorothy

talked very anxiously about the day appointed by my father to repay the

large sum expended. All hung upon that day, she said, speaking from her

knowledge of the squire. She was moved to an extreme distress by the

subject.

'He is confident, Harry; but where can he obtain the money? If your

grandfather sees it invested in your name in Government securities, he

will be satisfied, not otherwise: nothing less will satisfy him; and if

that is not done, he will join you and your father together in his mind;

and as he has hitherto treated one he will treat both. I know him. He

is just, to the extent of his vision; but he will not be able to separate

you. He is aware that your father has not restricted his expenses since

they met; he will say you should have used your influence.'

She insisted on this, until the tears streamed from her eyes, telling me

that my grandfather was the most upright and unsuspicious of men, and

precisely on that account the severest when he thought he had been

deceived. The fair chances of my election did not console her, as it did

me, by dazzling me. She affirmed strongly that she was sure my father

expected success at the election to be equivalent to the promised

restitution of the money, and begged me to warn him that nothing short of

the sum squandered would be deemed sufficient at Riversley. My dear

aunt, good woman though she was, seemed to me to be waxing miserly.

The squire had given her the name of Parsimony; she had vexed him, Janet

told me, by subscribing a miserable sum to a sailors' asylum that he

patronized--a sum he was ashamed to see standing as the gift of a

Beltham; and she had stopped the building of a wing of her village

school-house, designed upon his plan. Altogether, she was fretful and

distressful; she appeared to think that I could have kept my father in

better order. Riversley was hearing new and strange reports of him. But

how could I at Chippenden thwart his proceedings in London? Besides, he

was serving me indefatigably.

It can easily be imagined what description of banter he had to meet and

foil.

'This gentleman is obliging enough to ask me, "How about the Royal Arms?"

If in his extreme consideration he means to indicate my Arms, I will

inform him that they are open to him; he shall find entertainment for man

and beast; so he is doubly assured of a welcome.'

Questioned whether he did not think he was entitled to be rated at the

value of half-a-crown, he protested that whatever might be the sum of his

worth, he was pure coin, of which neither party in Chippenden could

accuse the silver of rubbing off; and he offered forthwith an impromptu

apologue of a copper penny that passed itself off for a crown-piece, and

deceived a portion of the country: that was why (with a wave of the arm

over the Hipperdon faction) it had a certain number of backers; for

everybody on whom the counterfeit had been foisted, praised it to keep it

in the currency.

'Now, gentlemen, I apprehend that Chippenden is not the pocket-borough

for Hipperdon coin. Back with him to the Mint! and, with your

permission, we will confiscate the first syllable of his name, while we

consign him to oblivion, with a hip, hip, hip, hurrah for Richmond!'

The cheers responded thunderingly, and were as loud when he answered a

'How 'bout the Dauphin?' by saying that it was the Tory hotel, of which

he knew nothing.

'A cheer for old Roy!' Edbury sang out.

My father checked the roar, and turned to him.

'Marquis of Edbury, come to the front!'

Edbury declined to budge, but the fellows round him edged aside to show

him a mark for my father's finger.

'Gentlemen, this is the young Marquis of Edbury, a member of the House of

Lords by right of his birth, born to legislate for you and me. He,

gentlemen, makes our laws. Examine him, hear him, meditate on him.'

He paused cruelly for Edbury to open his mouth. The young lord looked

confounded, and from that moment behaved becomingly.

'He might have been doing mischief to-morrow,' my father said to me, and

by letting me conceive his adroitness a matter of design, comforted me

with proofs of intelligent power, and made me feel less the melancholy

conjunction of a piece of mechanism and a piece of criticism, which I was

fast growing to be in the contemplation of the agencies leading to honour

in our land. Edbury whipped his four-in-hand to conduct our voters to

the poll. We had to pull hard against Tory interest. It was a sharp,

dubious, hot day--a day of outcries against undue influence and against

bribery--a day of beer and cheers and the insanest of tricks to cheat the

polling-booth. Old John Thresher of Dipwell, and Farmer Eckerthy drove

over to Chippenden to afford me aid and countenance, disconcerting me by

the sight of them, for I associated them with Janet rather than with

Ottilia, and it was to Ottilia that I should have felt myself rising when

the figures increased their pace in my favour, and the yeasty mob

surrounding my father's superb four-horsed chariot responded to his

orations by proclaiming me victor.

'I congratulate you, Mr. Richmond,' Dettermain said. 'Up to this day I

have had my fears that we should haul more moonshine than fish in our

net. Your father has accomplished prodigies.'

My father, with the bloom of success on his face, led me aside soon after

a safe majority of upwards of seventy had been officially announced.

'Now, Richie,' said he, 'you are a Member. Now to the squire away!

Thank the multitude and off, and as quick to Sarkeld as you well can, and

tell the squire from me that I pardon his suspicions. I have landed you

a Member--that will satisfy him. I am willing, tell him . . . you

know me competent to direct mines . . . bailiff of his estates--

whatever he pleases, to effect a reconciliation. I must be in London to-

night--I am in the thick of the fray there. No matter: go, my son.'

He embraced me. It was not a moment for me to catechize him, though I

could see that he was utterly deluded.

Between moonlight and morning, riding with Temple and Captain Bulsted on

either side of me, I drew rein under the red Grange windows, tired, and

in love with its air of sleepy grandeur. Janet's window was open. I

hailed her. 'Has he won?' she sang out in the dark of her room, as

though the cry of delight came upon the leap from bed. She was dressed.

She had commissioned Farmer Eckerthy to bring her the news at any hour of

the night. Seeing me, she clapped hands. 'Harry, I congratulate you a

thousand times.' She had wit to guess that I should never have thought

of coming had I not been the winner. I could just discern the curve and

roll of her famed thick brown hair in the happy shrug of her shoulder,

and imagined the full stream of it as she leaned out of window to talk to

us.

Janet herself, unfastened the hall-door bolts. She caressed the horses,

feverishly exulting, with charming subdued laughter of victory and

welcome, and amused us by leading my horse round to stables, and

whistling for one of the lads, playing what may, now and then, be a

pretty feature in a young woman of character--the fair tom-boy girl.

She and her maid prepared coffee and toast for us, and entered the hall,

one after the other, laden with dishes of cold meat; and not until the

captain had eaten well did she tell him slyly that somebody, whom she had

brought to Riversley yesterday, was abed and asleep upstairs. The

slyness and its sisterly innocence lit up our eyes, and our hearts

laughed. Her cheeks were deliciously overcoloured. We stole I know not

what from the night and the day, and conventional circumstances, and

rallied Captain Bulsted, and behaved as decorous people who treat the

night properly, and live by rule, do not quite do. Never since Janet was

a girl had I seen her so spirited and responsive: the womanly armour of

half-reserve was put away. We chatted with a fresh-hearted natural young

creature who forfeited not a particle of her ladyship while she made

herself our comrade in talk and frolic.

Janet and I walked part of the way to the station with Temple, who had to

catch an early train, and returning--the song of skylarks covering us--

joined hands, having our choice between nothing to say, and the excess;

perilous both.

The Adventures of Harry Richmond — Volume 6 · 第 6 / 7 章