marriage would not be legal, as we could not have the necessary papers,
and should even have to be married under assumed names, and in another
country. He believed that then, when his mother saw that the honour of a
Porthikopoff was at stake, she would take steps to have the ceremony
performed again with the necessary formalities. He thought that she
would do for the honour and pride of her family what she would not do
for love of her son.
"'I consented to everything; but, alas! a month later, seeing that your
father continued to brave all authority, the Czar recalled him to St.
Petersburg.
"'Your father pleaded our cause but in vain! Nicholas I., proud autocrat
as he was, and the Princess were both inexorable. Your father was
exasperated, and he gave vent to his indignation. The result was that he
was ordered to start the next day for Irkoutsk, in Siberia He was to be
exiled! Exiled because he had loved me, because he wished to do his duty
and make me his lawful wife! My mother and I went away to Lille, where
you were born.
"'The Prince, your father, was not allowed to write or receive letters
without sending them first to the Governor to be read and approved. I
happened to meet with someone who was going to Irkoutsk, and begged him
to take a message to your father and to tell him of your birth. When
this man returned he brought me a letter from your father, in which he
said he was going to try and make his escape, and that he would never
again set foot in Russia.
"'Just at this time my mother died. Your father was not able to put his
plan into execution, and a year later he was allowed to write to me, but
merely to tell me the conditions on which Nicholas I. offered to allow
his return from exile. The Czar had chosen a wife for him, and he was to
renounce me for ever. Your father added that he was refusing such terms;
that he would never break his vow to me, and preferred exile to what was
offered him.
"'He was right!' I exclaimed, proudly, for I was glad to find that I had
no cause to blush for my father.
"'It was noble of him!' said my mother, and her eyes filled with tears.
'It was noble, but how could I accept such a sacrifice? I could not; it
would have been too selfish. There was only one thing to do, and
although in doing it I had to sacrifice all my womanly pride, my courage
held out. I wrote to your father, telling him to accept the Czar's
offer, as I myself was about to marry.'
"'It was not true?'
"'No! No! It was to save him. I wanted him to be free, to be happy if
possible. As for me, all was over. He wrote to me, reproaching me, and
it broke my heart. I did not reply to his letter. I went back to Paris,
where I lived quietly and unknown, devoting myself entirely to you....
Six months later I heard that he had married a Princess according to the
will of the Czar, and that he was appointed captain.'
"'Is he happy?'
"'I have never heard another word about him, and as he has no idea of my
whereabouts, he could never have made inquiries about me. Now you know
all, you know the cause of my sadness and the secret of your birth. You
must now judge between your father and your mother, and either pardon or
condemn us, for, alas! my poor boy, you have no name and no future.'
"My poor mother hid her face in her hands and sobbed in an agony of
grief.
"'I have nothing to forgive, mother; but if you wish me to judge my
father and you, I can only say that you both did your duty and that your
sacrifice was sublime. Society makes laws at its own pleasure, but in
the sight of God, who surely is over all, your marriage was valid, and I
have nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, you were both victims,
and you suffered through your loyalty to each other--and your love was
surely truer and more ideal than many which society recognises.'
"My poor mother could not speak for some time, her emotion was so great.
Later on she told me where I should find some papers, which I was to
read after her death, and she added:--
"'You will also find in the same drawer two things by which your father
would always recognise you, if you should ever meet him and if you
wished to make yourself known. I leave it entirely to you to act as you
think best; but if you ever should see him, tell him that I was true to
him, explain all, and tell him that I loved him to the last.'
"Two days later my poor mother passed away. I was thus left an orphan
and nameless. I was utterly alone in the world. I had not a creature to
love me, and I knew that I must never dare to love anyone. Left to
myself, I cursed the whole world and its prejudices and baseness."
Gauthier covered his face with his hand, and Saussier, respecting his
friend's grief, did not speak for some time. The two officers walked on
through the snow without noticing where they were going.
Suddenly Gauthier said, bitterly: "You understand now the cause of the
melancholy that is always weighing on me?"
"I do, indeed," replied Saussier.
"The tortures of the Inquisition are nothing to what I endure, when I
think of my poor mother suffering through all those years without a word
of consolation from any living soul."
"It must have been terrible!"
"Then, too, you know now why I always find out the name of the Russian
commander before every attack; for by now he must be at least a
General."
"Yes, it is indeed fearful!"
* * * * *
Sebastopol had been besieged ever since October 9th, 1854. Marshal
Canrobert commanded the troops with Lord Raglan.
[Illustration: "TELL HIM THAT I LOVED HIM TO THE LAST."]
Prince Mentschiskoff and Prince Todleben resisted the attack bravely.
The sight of the city, which was all in ruins, exasperated the Russian
Commander-in-Chief, and he ordered a sally, but the French and the
English were well on guard and repulsed this desperate attempt.
The attack was terrible, and the heroism on every side sublime.
The most warlike of the besieged troops rushed against the French,
preferring to have to do with the _furia francesca_ rather than with the
British deliberation and _sang-froid_. The combat was sustained and
desperate.
Profiting by the confusion amongst the French troops, caused by the
death of their Commander-in-Chief, the Russians succeeded in obtaining
the first trench. The besiegers, however, got reinforcements and the
struggle was continued.
Two young officers, who were fighting side by side, attracted everyone's
notice. They were in the first rank, and they led their soldiers into
the thickest of the fray and cut down the enemy right and left.
One of them was rather in advance of the other, and was encouraging his
soldiers to follow him. Suddenly with his pistol he took aim at a
Russian commander, who, on seeing that the enemy was gaining ground, had
spurred his horse forward and was calling to his soldiers to advance.
Another horseman, seeing the danger his chief was in, rushed before him,
exclaiming:--
"Take care, General Porthikopoff!"
On hearing this the French officer dropped his murderous weapon and
stood as if paralyzed, looking at his enemy.
On receiving the warning the Prince had drawn out his pistol and fired
at the French officer. The ball struck him, and he fell. His friend, who
had just reached him, and who had also heard the Russian General's name,
drew his men to the right where the enemy was strongest, exclaiming, in
desperation: "Follow me! Follow me!"
The Russian soldiers rushed at the young officer, who had fallen, and
would have killed him, but, waving them off, he said he must speak with
their General before he died.
The Prince, astonished at the request at such a moment, consented.
"What is it you have to say, and why did you not attempt to shoot me?"
"I could not."
"But what prevented you?"
"Duty."
"I do not understand."
The young officer drew from his tunic a letter, a locket, and a small
box, and handed them to the General.
"What is the meaning of this?" exclaimed the Prince.
"Look inside the locket."
The Prince opened it and started. "My portrait and Madeline's!" Then,
opening the box: "And her engagement ring! Where did you get these
from?"
"The letter will explain all."
The Prince opened it, and, after glancing at it quickly, said: "And you
are----"
"Nicolas Gauthier."
"And your mother?"
"She is dead. Her love for you killed her."
"That is not true, for she married another."
"Never! She loved you to the last, and died with your name on her lips.
Read the letter to the end."
Mechanically the General read the letter, and then kissing the locket
passionately: "I knew, I felt that Madeline was true!" he said, and then
bending over Gauthier, he continued: "How did you recognise me, though?"
"I heard them call you by your name."
"That was why you would not fire?"
"Yes. A son could not kill his father, even though he be his enemy."
"But you allowed a father to kill his son?"
"I could not help it. It was fate."
"No, no, my son! You shall not die! You _must_ live!"
"God wills otherwise, father. Farewell! I have only seen you for a
minute, but I am satisfied."
Gauthier made a great effort to get up, smiled at the Prince, and then
fell back dead.
"My boy, my boy!" exclaimed the Prince, in desperation, stooping over
the dead body of his son. "Dead, dead, and killed by me, his father! And
this is the work of our Czar! Oh, cruel fate!"
[Illustration: "THE GENERAL REMAINED KNEELING BY THE SIDE OF HIS SON."]
The General remained some minutes kneeling by the side of his son in
mute despair, and then for the last time he sprang on to his horse and
rushed into the thickest of the fray.
"Prince! Prince! what are you doing there?" exclaimed a French officer
at his side.
"I am seeking death! I have killed my son, and I will not survive
him----"
He had scarcely finished when a ball struck him and he fell down dead.
"Who can say there is no Providence! The father has not waited long to
join his son," exclaimed the French officer, as he rushed on at the head
of his men.
For some time the result of the combat seemed uncertain, but at last the
French won the day, and the Russians had to take refuge in Sebastopol.
* * * * *
When Marshal Canrobert went over the battlefield, he asked where the
young officer was who belonged to the Foreign Legion, and who had fought
so bravely.
"He fell by the retrenchments," was the reply.
The Commander-in-Chief rode over to the spot named and ordered the
surgeon to examine the young officer who was lying on the ground. It
was, however, too late.
"There was another officer of the same Legion whom I saw fall there, to
the left," said the Marshal.
The young officer was brought and was told that his friend was dead.
"It is a pity," he said to the Marshal, "for you have lost a true
soldier."
"What was his name?"
"Nicolas Gauthier."
"And yours?"
"Félix Saussier."
The Commander-in-Chief ordered the army to fall into rank, and then as
they presented arms he took the Cross of the Legion of Honour which he
was wearing himself and placed it on Lieutenant Saussier's breast.
"Wear it proudly," he said; "it is the recompense that France accords to
her bravest sons, and you well deserve it."
Then taking another Cross from one of the officers who belonged to the
État Major, he placed it on the body of Gauthier. "You, too, have well
earned it," he said, "and shall take it with you to your grave."
The troops filed off, after passing in front of the two officers, the
one wounded and the other dead. Marshal Canrobert himself raised his
sword and saluted the two heroes (the one, alas! had died too soon, and
the other was destined to become one of the bravest Generals of France),
and then passed on deeply moved, but satisfied with the victory, and
ignorant of the drama which had taken place so near to him.
[Illustration]
_From Behind the Speaker's Chair._
VI.
(VIEWED BY HENRY W. LUCY.)
[Sidenote: SIR WILLIAM HARCOURT.]
Sir William Harcourt has been so long a familiar figure in the House of
Commons, and has established so high a reputation, that it seems odd to
speak of him as one of the successes of the new Session. But the phrase
accurately describes his position. Circumstances connected with the
personality of the Premier have given him opportunity to show what
potentialities as Leader of the House modestly lurk behind his massive
figure, and the result has been eminently satisfactory to his party and
his friends. Sir William's early reputation was made as a brilliant
swordsman of debate, most effective in attack. The very qualities that
go to make success in that direction might lead to utter failure on the
part of a Leader of the House.
[Illustration: "MODESTLY LURKING."]
If one sought for a word that would describe the leading characteristics
of Sir William Harcourt in Parliament it would be found in the style
aggressive. Perhaps the most fatal thing a Leader of the House of
Commons could do would be to develop aggressiveness. The Leader must be
a strong man--should be the strongest man on his side of the House. But
his strength must be kept in reserve, and if he err on either side of
this particular line, submissiveness should be his characteristic. The
possession of this quality was the foundation of Mr. W. H. Smith's
remarkable success as Leader. It is true he could not, had he tried,
have varied his deferential attitude towards the House by one of sterner
mould, and the House enjoys the situation more keenly if that
alternative be existent. It took Mr. Smith as he was, and the two got on
marvellously well together.
Nothing known of Sir William Harcourt's Parliamentary manner forbade the
apprehension that, occupying the box-seat, there would be incessant
cracking of the whip. It was difficult in advance to imagine how he
would be able to resist the opportunity of letting the lash fall on the
back of a restive or a stubborn horse. The opportunity of saying a smart
thing, at whatever cost, seemed with him irresistible. If only he had
his jest they might have his estate; in this case the estate of his
party.
[Illustration: "AGGRESSIVE."]
Reflection on an earlier experience of Sir William in the seat of the
Leader might have caused these forebodings to cease. Four years ago,
towards the close of the Session of 1889, the temporary withdrawal of
Mr. Gladstone from the scene gave him his chance. It happened that the
Government under the leadership of Mr. Smith, and, it was understood,
on the personal instruction of Lord Salisbury, were pressing forward
the Tithes Bill. They had an overwhelming, well-disciplined majority, and
being pledged up to the hilt to carry the Bill, the issue seemed certain.
Through a whole week Sir William led the numerically-overpowered
Opposition, fighting the Bill at every step. The hampered Government
were determined to get some sort of Bill passed, and, hopeless of
achieving their earliest intention, foreshadowed another measure in a
series of amendments laid on the table by the Attorney-General. The
Opposition were not disposed to accept this with greater fervour than
the other, and finally Mr. Smith announced a total withdrawal from the
position.
Nothing was finer throughout the brilliant campaign than Sir William
Harcourt's lamentations over this conclusion. Having inflicted on a
strong Government the humiliation of defeat upon a cherished measure,
he, in a voice broken with emotion, held poor W. H. Smith up to the
scorn of all good men as a heartless, depraved parent, who had abandoned
by the wayside a promising infant.
In the present Session Sir William, as Deputy Leader, finds himself in a
position different from, and more difficult than, the one filled in
August, 1889. He was then in the place of the Leader of the Opposition,
and had a natural affinity for the duty of opposing. In the present
Session he has been frequently and continuously called upon to perform
the duties of Leader of the House, and his success, though not so
brilliantly striking as in the short, sharp campaign against the Tithes
Bill, has stood upon a broader and more permanent basis. The House of
Commons, as Mr. Goschen learned during the experiments in Leadership
which preceded his disappearance from the front rank, may be led, but
cannot be driven.
It is curious that two of the most aggressive controversialists in the
House, being temporarily called to the Leadership, have shown themselves
profoundly impressed with this truth. Like Lord Randolph Churchill, when
he led the House, Sir William Harcourt appears on the Treasury Bench
divested even of his side-arms. Like the Happy Warrior, his helmet is a
hive for bees. His patience in time of trial has been pathetic, and,
whatever may be his own feelings on the subject, the House has been
amazed at his moderation. He has sat silent on the Treasury Bench by the
hour, with Mr. Arthur Balfour, Mr. Chamberlain, Lord Randolph Churchill,
and other old familiar adversaries, trailing tempting coat-tails before
him.
[Illustration: "THE HAPPY WARRIOR."]
One night this Session, in debate on Uganda, Mr. Chamberlain interposed
and delivered a brilliant, bitter speech, which deeply stirred a crowded
House. It was drawing to the close of an important debate, and Mr.
Chamberlain sat down at half-past eleven, leaving plenty of time for the
Leader of the House to reply. To an old Parliamentary war-house the
situation must have been sorely tempting. A party like to be sent off
into the division lobby with a rattling speech from the Front Bench.
There was ample time for a brisk twenty minutes' canter, and the crowded
and excited sport. But there was nothing at stake on the division.
Though Mr. Chamberlain could not withstand the opportunity of
belabouring his old friends and colleagues, he did not intend to oppose
the vote for Uganda, which would receive the hearty support of the
Conservatives. Half an hour saved from speech-making would mean thirty
minutes appropriated to getting forward with other votes in Committee of
Supply. Sir William followed Mr. Chamberlain, and was welcomed with a
ringing cheer; members settling themselves down in anticipated enjoyment
of a rattling speech. When the applause subsided the Chancellor of the
Exchequer contented himself with the observation that there had been a
useful debate, the Committee had heard some excellent speeches, "and now
let us get the vote."
There was something touching in the depressed attitude of the right hon.
gentleman as he performed this act of renunciation. What it cost him
will, probably, never be known. But before progress was reported at
midnight half-a-dozen votes had been taken.
[Sidenote: THE WHIPS.]
Of the various forms ambition takes in political life the most
inscrutable is that which leads a man to the Whip's room. In
Parliamentary affairs the Whip fills a place analogous to that of a
sub-editor on a newspaper. He has (using the phrase in a Parliamentary
sense) all the kicks and few of the half-pence. With the sub-editor, if
anything goes wrong in the arrangement of the paper he is held
responsible, whilst if any triumph is achieved, no halo of the resultant
glory for a moment lights up the habitual obscurity of his head. It is
the same, in its way, with the Whip. His work is incessant, and for the
most part is drudgery. His reward is a possible Peerage, a Colonial
Governorship, a First Commissionership of Works, a Postmaster-Generalship,
or, as Sir William Dyke found at the close of a tremendous spell of
work, a Privy Councillorship.
[Illustration: SIR WILLIAM DYKE.]
Yet it often comes to pass that the fate of a Ministry and the destiny
of the Empire depend upon the Whip. A bad division, even though it be
plainly due to accidental circumstances, habitually influences the
course of a Ministry, sometimes giving their policy a crucial turn, and
at least exercising an important influence on the course of business in
the current Session.
An example of this was furnished early in the present Session by a
division taken on proposals for a Saturday sitting made necessary by
obstruction. Up to the announcement of the figures it had been
obstinately settled that the Second Reading of the Home Rule Bill should
be moved before Easter. The Opposition had pleaded and threatened. Mr.
Gladstone stood firm, and only three days before this momentous Friday
had almost impatiently reiterated his determination to move the Second
Reading of the Bill on the day appointed when leave was given to
introduce it. The normal majority of forty reduced to twenty-one worked
instant and magic charm. The falling-off had no political significance.
Everyone knew it arose from the accidental absence of a number of the
Irish members called home on local business. But there it was, and on
the following Monday Sir William Harcourt, on behalf of the Premier,
announced that the Home Rule Bill would not be taken till after Easter.
For other members of the Ministry there is occasional surcease from
work, and some opportunity for recreation. For the Whip there is none.
He begins his labour with the arrival of the morning post, and keeps at
it till the Speaker has left the chair, and the principal door-keeper
standing out on the matting before the doorway cries aloud: "The usual
time!"
That ceremony is a quaint relic of far-off days before penny papers
were, and the means of communicating with members were circumscribed. It
is the elliptical form of making known to members that at the next
sitting the Speaker will take the chair at the usual time. For ordinary
members, even for Ministers, unless they must be in their place to
answer a question, "the usual time" means whatever hour best suits their
convenience. The Whip is in his room even before the Speaker takes the
chair, and it is merely a change of the scene of labour from his office
at the Treasury. He remains till the House is up, whether the business
be brisk or lifeless.
In truth, at times when the House is reduced almost to a state of coma,
the duties of the Whip become more arduous and exacting. These are the
occasions when gentle malice loves to bring about a count-out. If it is
a private members' night the Whips have no responsibility in the matter
of keeping a House, and have even been suspected of occasionally
conniving in the beneficent plot of dispersing it. But just now private
members' nights stand in the same relation to the Session as the
sententious traveller found to be the case with snakes in Iceland. There
are none. Every night is a Government night, and weariness of flesh and
spirit naturally suggests a count-out. The regular business of the Whip
is to see that there are within call sufficient members to frustrate the
designs of the casual counter-out.
[Illustration: MR. JARRETT, DOOR-KEEPER.]
[Sidenote: "BOBBY" SPENCER.]
Mr. Gladstone and other members of the Cabinet, on many dull nights of
this Session, have been cheered on crossing the lobby by the sight of
Mr. "Bobby" Spencer gracefully tripping about, note-book in hand,
holding an interminable succession of members in brief but animated
conversation. He is not making a book for the Derby or Goodwood, as one
might suspect. "Do you dine here to-night?" is his insinuating inquiry,
and till he has listed more than enough men to "make a House" in case of
need, he does not feel assured of the safety of the British
Constitution, and therefore does not rest.
[Illustration: "BOBBY" SPENCER.]
This is part of the ordinary work of the average night. When an
important division is impending, the labour imposed upon the Whip is
Titanic. He, of course, knows every individual member of his flock. With
a critical division pending he must know more, ascertaining where he is
and, above all, where he will be on the night of the division. It is at
these crises that the personal characteristics of the Whip are tested. A
successful Whip should be almost loved, and not a little feared. He
should ever wear the silken glove, but there should be borne in upon the
consciousness of those with whom he has to deal that it covers an iron
hand.
It happens just now that both political parties in the House of Commons
are happy in the possession of almost model Whips. As was said by a
shrewd observer, no one looking at Mr. Marjoribanks or Mr. Akers-Douglas
as they lounge about the Lobby "would suppose they could say 'Bo!' to a
goose." The goose, however, would do well not to push the experiment of
forbearance too far. All through the last Parliament Mr. Akers-Douglas
held his men together with a light, firm hand, that was the admiration
and despair of the other side. Mr. Marjoribanks has, up to this present
time of writing, maintained the highest standard of success in Whipping.
[Sidenote: MR. MARJORIBANKS.]