On the last evening but one, before Miriam and I were to go away
together, we were sitting round the tea-table in the verandah. Mrs.
Eppstein was with us, and Mr. Perry had said that he would be home at
five o'clock, but had not yet appeared. But we heard the wheels of the
carriage just as Mr. Blother had brought out the kettle, with the
intimation that we had better begin now; and Mr. Perry came out to us
directly, still wearing his tall hat, which Lord Arthur usually relieved
him of in the hall.
It was evident that he had news for us, and to judge by his face, on
which sat an expression combined of jubilance and modesty, it was good
news.
"Blother, old friend," said Mr. Perry, "don't go. I have something to
tell you."
Then he went up to Mrs. Perry, took her hand in his, kissed it, and
said: "Good evening, my lady."
Mrs. Perry exclaimed at this form of address, and after a short pause,
during which Mr. Perry removed his hat and looked rather sheepish, Mr.
Blother said joyfully: "Ah, I see. At last they have recognised your
value, and have knighted you. Three cheers for Sir Samuel and Lady
Perry!"
Mr. Perry held up his hand, and the cheers died on our lips. "You are on
the right track, Blother," he said, "but you have not gone far enough.
You should have said: 'Three cheers for Lord and Lady Magnolia!' which
is the title I have decided to adopt, subject to her ladyship's
approval. My dear, a great and unexpected honour has been conferred on
me. They have offered me a peerage, contingent on my accepting or
refusing it at once. I have accepted, thinking you would wish it for the
sake of the children, and my patent was handed to me this afternoon."
We all congratulated the new peer heartily, concealing our surprise at
the honour having been conferred on him, and saying that it was only
what ought to have been done long ago.
When Mr. Blother had left us to carry the news into the servants'
quarters, Mr. Perry, or rather Lord Magnolia, told us all about it.
"It is the reward of my life-long service in the cause of the
downtrodden," he said, "and dear Edward will be gratified to know that
the punishment so harshly inflicted upon him has had something to do
with it. I was given to understand that the Government much regrets the
necessity of having had to prosecute him, and, as a good deal of feeling
has been aroused against them in consequence of that action, they hoped
that this honour, conferred upon me so promptly, might remove some of
that feeling, as showing that, whatever may be thought of them, they are
really on our side. Therefore, in one way, I may be said to be doing as
much for them as they are doing for me, which made it, perhaps, easier
to accept the unlooked-for honour. I did not do so without some demur. I
said that I should not consent to be a mere puppet peer,[34] and they
assured me that nothing of the sort was intended. They also assured me
in the handsomest way that the offer of a peerage to me had long been
under consideration, and the only difficulty about it had been that my
way of living might bring ridicule on the nobility generally. I told
them at once that my work was far too dear to me to be given up, and
that if the stipulation was that I should leave my friends amongst the
rich, and go back to live amongst the poor, I could not consent to it.
They said that no such stipulation would be made, and that removed my
last objection."
What his other objections had been, Lord Magnolia did not tell us. It
was obvious that he had not had the least idea of such an honour ever
being conferred on him, and was quite agreeably stirred by it.
"I only wish that dear Edward were here to share our gratification," he
said, "but it will not be long now before we have him with us again. My
dear, I think you might write him a note to tell him what has happened.
To-morrow will be his day for receiving letters, and do not forget to
address him as the Honourable Edward Perry."
"I must go home at once and tell Herman," said Mrs. Eppstein. "It was a
step up for him to marry me, but he little thought that he would be
marrying into the peerage."
"Shall I be Lady Mollie, like Susan and Cynthia?" enquired Lord
Magnolia's younger daughter.
"You will be the Honourable Mollie, my love," replied that nobleman.
"You are all now the Honourable. But you must not think too much of
that. These distinctions are nothing in themselves, and you must not
forget that it is worth that counts, and that titles are usually given
as a reward to those who are the last to desire them for themselves. It
is so in this case. Nothing will be changed here, and we shall still go
on in our quiet way, trying to live for our fellow creatures, continuing
to share in their joys and in their sorrows, and living like the richest
and humblest of them."
At this moment, all the household, led by Mr. Blother and Mrs. Lemon,
came filing out on to the verandah, to congratulate their master on the
honour that had been conferred upon him.
Lord Magnolia received their felicitations with heartfelt gratitude, and
then Mr. Blother made a little speech.
"It is quite a new situation," he said, "for a domestic staff to find
themselves in the service of a peer of the realm, and it is a matter of
congratulation to one and all of us that the already unusual
circumstances under which we have all lived together here--some of us
for a number of years--have been so happy that no awkwardness has been
felt anywhere. Perhaps we, in the servants' hall, can take some of the
credit for that, for I think we can all say that we have borne some of
the burdens of wealth, and have not let them fall entirely upon the
shoulders of the excellent master and mistress with whom we have lived
in such friendly relations. If any of us have ever seemed to press too
hardly upon the younger members of the family, it has only been because
we did not wish them to succumb to the temptations of wealth, as they
might have done if they had been allowed to forget that servants are
usually in a far superior position to those whom they serve. For it
would never do for them to grow up thinking that life amongst the rich
was so pleasant as I think we servants may pride ourselves on having
made it at Magnolia Hall.
"However, I need say no more about that. What I _am_ going to say, on
behalf of myself and all my colleagues, is that we wish to mark this
happy occasion by an act of self-sacrifice. However my old friend, Lord
Magnolia, may wish to conduct his life in the future, we feel that for
this evening, at least, we should not like to see him and her ladyship
occupying an inferior situation to our own. We propose that the
household staff should take their places at the dinner-table, and be
waited upon by Lord Magnolia and his family, who will also cook the
dinner, and wash up afterwards."
It would be impossible to describe the emotion with which Lord Magnolia
met this touching offer of self-surrender, so handsomely acquiesced in
by the whole company before him. He said a great many things in reply,
but what he said most insistently, and repeated so that it could not
possibly be misunderstood, was that nothing would induce him to accept
it. Nothing was to be changed, he said. It would take away all his
gratification in the honour that had been done to him, if it was to be
thought that it would for a moment put him on the level of those whom he
had always been glad to call his friends. Let them keep their proud
position, and let those who thought and acted with him keep their humble
one. If they would do him that honour, let them all come in after dinner
and drink a glass of wine--such of them as were not teetotallers--with
him and his family. More than that he could not accept from them, if
they begged him on their bended knees.
So it was settled. Lord Magnolia drank several glasses of wine that
evening, and went up to bed in as happy a frame of mind as that of any
peer in Upsidonia.
FOOTNOTES:
[34] In one sense, all the members of the Upsidonian Upper House were
puppet peers. Their chamber was the oldest building in Culbut, and one
of which the inhabitants of that city were justly proud. But it lacked
accommodation. It had been built at a time when there were only twelve
peers in the whole of Upsidonia, and as it had been reckoned that never
more than half of them would be present at a debate, it had been
designed to hold only six people.
But, according to the system on which the Upper House worked, this was
ample. All the business was done by five peers--the Lord Chancellor, and
two representing each party. As there were no facilities for reporting
debates, they held none. In fact, speeches had reduced themselves in the
course of years to three formulae. These were: (1) "Let it go"; (2) "I
think not"; and (3) "Try again."
Two peers made a quorum, and as a matter of convenience business was
usually left to the Lord Chancellor and one peer, who represented the
Government when one side was in office, and the Opposition when the
other side was in office.
But it must not be supposed that this ancient House had been denuded of
all its powers. Far from it. Parliamentary business was much less
contentious than with us, and this simple procedure was found to suffice
for the bills of most sessions. It worked perhaps better for one party
than the other, but as most of the peers belonged to the larger party it
was considered only fair that it should do so.
But when a really controversial measure was sent up to the House of
Lords, there was a very different state of affairs. Then all the peers
in the country were entitled to vote, and the full Committee sat for a
week, while the papers were coming in.
It was usually a struggle between the "Let it go's," and the "I think
nots"; but the "Try agains" were sometimes in the majority, and the Bill
was sent down to the Lower House for amendment. The peers had no
machinery for amending it themselves, and no direct means of indicating
the amendments they wished made. With the common-sense that was a
feature of so many Upsidonian institutions, it was taken for granted
that the House of Commons would know perfectly well what was expected of
them, and would put it into their Bill if they wanted it passed when it
was sent up a second time.
The great body of peers--men for the most part who had other things to
think of--seldom made any objection to announcing which way they
intended to vote. If they didn't, they were liable to be constantly
worried by people coming to them to find out, when they wanted to get on
with their work.
If the Government was particularly annoyed at the rejection of a Bill,
they would send it up again, and, to avoid any further fuss, the peers
would usually fall back upon a fourth formula, which provided for this
contingency. This was: "Settle it for yourselves"; and it meant that the
Bill would go to the House of Lords Committee again in the usual way,
and would be passed.
The system worked well on the whole, and it had never happened that a
Bill had gone more than three times to the whole body of peers. They
always broke down on the third canvass, even if it was on a question
that affected themselves adversely. They could not stand the nuisance of
being continually interrupted and annoyed; and many of them turned
against their own party for the sake of getting it all over, and being
allowed to settle down quietly again.