Lord Brentford’s Dinner
No;--in such case as that,--should he resolve upon taking the advice
of his old friend Mr. Low, Phineas Finn must make up his mind never
to see Lady Laura Standish again! And he was in love with Lady Laura
Standish;--and, for aught he knew, Lady Laura Standish might be in
love with him. As he walked home from Mr. Low’s house in Bedford
Square, he was by no means a triumphant man. There had been much more
said between him and Mr. Low than could be laid before the reader
in the last chapter. Mr. Low had urged him again and again, and had
prevailed so far that Phineas, before he left the house, had promised
to consider that suicidal expedient of the Chiltern Hundreds. What a
by-word he would become if he were to give up Parliament, having sat
there for about a week! But such immediate giving up was one of the
necessities of Mr. Low’s programme. According to Mr. Low’s teaching,
a single year passed amidst the miasma of the House of Commons would
be altogether fatal to any chance of professional success. And Mr.
Low had at any rate succeeded in making Phineas believe that he
was right in this lesson. There was his profession, as to which Mr.
Low assured him that success was within his reach; and there was
Parliament on the other side, as to which he knew that the chances
were all against him, in spite of his advantage of a seat. That he
could not combine the two, beginning with Parliament, he did believe.
Which should it be? That was the question which he tried to decide
as he walked home from Bedford Square to Great Marlborough Street.
He could not answer the question satisfactorily, and went to bed an
unhappy man.
He must at any rate go to Lord Brentford’s dinner on Wednesday, and,
to enable him to join in the conversation there, must attend the
debates on Monday and Tuesday. The reader may perhaps be best made to
understand how terrible was our hero’s state of doubt by being told
that for awhile he thought of absenting himself from these debates,
as being likely to weaken his purpose of withdrawing altogether from
the House. It is not very often that so strong a fury rages between
party and party at the commencement of the session that a division
is taken upon the Address. It is customary for the leader of the
opposition on such occasions to express his opinion in the most
courteous language, that his right honourable friend, sitting
opposite to him on the Treasury bench, has been, is, and will be
wrong in everything that he thinks, says, or does in public life; but
that, as anything like factious opposition is never adopted on that
side of the House, the Address to the Queen, in answer to that most
fatuous speech which has been put into her Majesty’s gracious mouth,
shall be allowed to pass unquestioned. Then the leader of the House
thanks his adversary for his consideration, explains to all men how
happy the country ought to be that the Government has not fallen into
the disgracefully incapable hands of his right honourable friend
opposite; and after that the Address is carried amidst universal
serenity. But such was not the order of the day on the present
occasion. Mr. Mildmay, the veteran leader of the liberal side of the
House, had moved an amendment to the Address, and had urged upon the
House, in very strong language, the expediency of showing, at the
very commencement of the session, that the country had returned
to Parliament a strong majority determined not to put up with
Conservative inactivity. “I conceive it to be my duty,” Mr. Mildmay
had said, “at once to assume that the country is unwilling that the
right honourable gentlemen opposite should keep their seats on the
bench upon which they sit, and in the performance of that duty I am
called upon to divide the House upon the Address to her Majesty.” And
if Mr. Mildmay used strong language, the reader may be sure that Mr.
Mildmay’s followers used language much stronger. And Mr. Daubeny, who
was the present leader of the House, and representative there of the
Ministry,--Lord de Terrier, the Premier, sitting in the House of
Lords,--was not the man to allow these amenities to pass by without
adequate replies. He and his friends were very strong in sarcasm,
if they failed in argument, and lacked nothing for words, though
it might perhaps be proved that they were short in numbers. It was
considered that the speech in which Mr. Daubeny reviewed the long
political life of Mr. Mildmay, and showed that Mr. Mildmay had been
at one time a bugbear, and then a nightmare, and latterly simply a
fungus, was one of the severest attacks, if not the most severe, that
had been heard in that House since the Reform Bill. Mr. Mildmay, the
while, was sitting with his hat low down over his eyes, and many men
said that he did not like it. But this speech was not made till after
that dinner at Lord Brentford’s, of which a short account must be
given.
Had it not been for the overwhelming interest of the doings in
Parliament at the commencement of the session, Phineas might have
perhaps abstained from attending, in spite of the charm of novelty.
For, in truth, Mr. Low’s words had moved him much. But if it was to
be his fate to be a member of Parliament only for ten days, surely it
would be well that he should take advantage of the time to hear such
a debate as this. It would be a thing to talk of to his children in
twenty years’ time, or to his grandchildren in fifty;--and it would
be essentially necessary that he should be able to talk of it to Lady
Laura Standish. He did, therefore, sit in the House till one on the
Monday night, and till two on the Tuesday night, and heard the debate
adjourned till the Thursday. On the Thursday Mr. Daubeny was to make
his great speech, and then the division would come.
When Phineas entered Lady Laura’s drawing-room on the Wednesday
before dinner, he found the other guests all assembled. Why men
should have been earlier in keeping their dinner engagements on that
day than on any other he did not understand; but it was the fact,
probably, that the great anxiety of the time made those who were at
all concerned in the matter very keen to hear and to be heard. During
these days everybody was in a hurry,--everybody was eager; and there
was a common feeling that not a minute was to be lost. There were
three ladies in the room,--Lady Laura, Miss Fitzgibbon, and Mrs.
Bonteen. The latter was the wife of a gentleman who had been a junior
Lord of the Admiralty in the late Government, and who lived in the
expectation of filling, perhaps, some higher office in the Government
which, as he hoped, was soon to be called into existence. There
were five gentlemen besides Phineas Finn himself,--Mr. Bonteen, Mr.
Kennedy, Mr. Fitzgibbon, Barrington Erle, who had been caught in
spite of all that Lady Laura had said as to the difficulty of such
an operation, and Lord Brentford. Phineas was quick to observe that
every male guest was in Parliament, and to tell himself that he would
not have been there unless he also had had a seat.
“We are all here now,” said the Earl, ringing the bell.
“I hope I’ve not kept you waiting,” said Phineas.
“Not at all,” said Lady Laura. “I do not know why we are in such a
hurry. And how many do you say it will be, Mr. Finn?”
“Seventeen, I suppose,” said Phineas.
“More likely twenty-two,” said Mr. Bonteen. “There is Colcleugh so
ill they can’t possibly bring him up, and young Rochester is at
Vienna, and Gunning is sulking about something, and Moody has lost
his eldest son. By George! they pressed him to come up, although
Frank Moody won’t be buried till Friday.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Lord Brentford.
“You ask some of the Carlton fellows, and they’ll own it.”
“If I’d lost every relation I had in the world,” said Fitzgibbon,
“I’d vote on such a question as this. Staying away won’t bring poor
Frank Moody back to life.”
“But there’s a decency in these matters, is there not, Mr.
Fitzgibbon?” said Lady Laura.
“I thought they had thrown all that kind of thing overboard long
ago,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. “It would be better that they should have
no veil, than squabble about the thickness of it.”
Then dinner was announced. The Earl walked off with Miss Fitzgibbon,
Barrington Erle took Mrs. Bonteen, and Mr. Fitzgibbon took Lady
Laura.
“I’ll bet four pounds to two it’s over nineteen,” said Mr. Bonteen,
as he passed through the drawing-room door. The remark seemed to have
been addressed to Mr. Kennedy, and Phineas therefore made no reply.
“I daresay it will,” said Kennedy, “but I never bet.”
“But you vote--sometimes, I hope,” said Bonteen.
“Sometimes,” said Mr. Kennedy.
“I think he is the most odious man that ever I set my eyes on,” said
Phineas to himself as he followed Mr. Kennedy into the dining-room.
He had observed that Mr. Kennedy had been standing very near to Lady
Laura in the drawing-room, and that Lady Laura had said a few words
to him. He was more determined than ever that he would hate Mr.
Kennedy, and would probably have been moody and unhappy throughout
the whole dinner had not Lady Laura called him to a chair at her left
hand. It was very generous of her; and the more so, as Mr. Kennedy
had, in a half-hesitating manner, prepared to seat himself in that
very place. As it was, Phineas and Mr. Kennedy were neighbours, but
Phineas had the place of honour.
“I suppose you will not speak during the debate?” said Lady Laura.
“Who? I? Certainly not. In the first place, I could not get a
hearing, and, in the next place, I should not think of commencing on
such an occasion. I do not know that I shall ever speak at all.”
“Indeed you will. You are just the sort of man who will succeed with
the House. What I doubt is, whether you will do as well in office.”
“I wish I might have the chance.”
“Of course you can have the chance if you try for it. Beginning so
early, and being on the right side,--and, if you will allow me to say
so, among the right set,--there can be no doubt that you may take
office if you will. But I am not sure that you will be tractable. You
cannot begin, you know, by being Prime Minister.”
“I have seen enough to realise that already,” said Phineas.
“If you will only keep that little fact steadily before your eyes,
there is nothing you may not reach in official life. But Pitt was
Prime Minister at four-and-twenty, and that precedent has ruined half
our young politicians.”
“It has not affected me, Lady Laura.”
“As far as I can see, there is no great difficulty in government. A
man must learn to have words at command when he is on his legs in
the House of Commons, in the same way as he would if he were talking
to his own servants. He must keep his temper; and he must be very
patient. As far as I have seen Cabinet Ministers, they are not more
clever than other people.”
“I think there are generally one or two men of ability in the
Cabinet.”
“Yes, of fair ability. Mr. Mildmay is a good specimen. There is not,
and never was, anything brilliant in him. He is not eloquent, nor,
as far as I am aware, did he ever create anything. But he has always
been a steady, honest, persevering man, and circumstances have made
politics come easy to him.”
“Think of the momentous questions which he has been called upon to
decide,” said Phineas.
“Every question so handled by him has been decided rightly according
to his own party, and wrongly according to the party opposite. A
political leader is so sure of support and so sure of attack, that
it is hardly necessary for him to be even anxious to be right. For
the country’s sake, he should have officials under him who know the
routine of business.”
“You think very badly then of politics as a profession.”
“No; I think of them very highly. It must be better to deal with
the repeal of laws than the defending of criminals. But all this is
papa’s wisdom, not mine. Papa has never been in the Cabinet yet, and
therefore of course he is a little caustic.”
“I think he was quite right,” said Barrington Erle stoutly. He spoke
so stoutly that everybody at the table listened to him.
“I don’t exactly see the necessity for such internecine war just at
present,” said Lord Brentford.
“I must say I do,” said the other. “Lord de Terrier took office
knowing that he was in a minority. We had a fair majority of nearly
thirty when he came in.”
“Then how very soft you must have been to go out,” said Miss
Fitzgibbon.
“Not in the least soft,” continued Barrington Erle. “We could not
command our men, and were bound to go out. For aught we knew, some
score of them might have chosen to support Lord de Terrier, and then
we should have owned ourselves beaten for the time.”
“You were beaten,--hollow,” said Miss Fitzgibbon.
“Then why did Lord de Terrier dissolve?”
“A Prime Minister is quite right to dissolve in such a position,”
said Lord Brentford. “He must do so for the Queen’s sake. It is his
only chance.”
“Just so. It is, as you say, his only chance, and it is his right.
His very possession of power will give him near a score of votes, and
if he thinks that he has a chance, let him try it. We maintain that
he had no chance, and that he must have known that he had none;--that
if he could not get on with the late House, he certainly could not
get on with a new House. We let him have his own way as far as we
could in February. We had failed last summer, and if he could get
along he was welcome. But he could not get along.”
“I must say I think he was right to dissolve,” said Lady Laura.
“And we are right to force the consequences upon him as quickly as
we can. He practically lost nine seats by his dissolution. Look at
Loughshane.”
“Yes; look at Loughshane,” said Miss Fitzgibbon. “The country at any
rate has gained something there.”
“It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good, Mr. Finn,” said the
Earl.
“What on earth is to become of poor George?” said Mr. Fitzgibbon. “I
wonder whether any one knows where he is. George wasn’t a bad sort of
fellow.”
“Roby used to think that he was a very bad fellow,” said Mr. Bonteen.
“Roby used to swear that it was hopeless trying to catch him.” It may
be as well to explain that Mr. Roby was a Conservative gentleman of
great fame who had for years acted as Whip under Mr. Daubeny, and who
now filled the high office of Patronage Secretary to the Treasury. “I
believe in my heart,” continued Mr. Bonteen, “that Roby is rejoiced
that poor George Morris should be out in the cold.”
“If seats were halveable, he should share mine, for the sake of auld
lang syne,” said Laurence Fitzgibbon.
“But not to-morrow night,” said Barrington Erle; “the division
to-morrow will be a thing not to be joked with. Upon my word I think
they’re right about old Moody. All private considerations should give
way. And as for Gunning, I’d have him up or I’d know the reason why.”
“And shall we have no defaulters, Barrington?” asked Lady Laura.
“I’m not going to boast, but I don’t know of one for whom we need
blush. Sir Everard Powell is so bad with gout that he can’t even bear
any one to look at him, but Ratler says that he’ll bring him up.” Mr.
Ratler was in those days the Whip on the liberal side of the House.
“Unfortunate wretch!” said Miss Fitzgibbon.
“The worst of it is that he screams in his paroxysms,” said Mr.
Bonteen.
“And you mean to say that you’ll take him into the lobby,” said Lady
Laura.
“Undoubtedly,” said Barrington Erle. “Why not? He has no business
with a seat if he can’t vote. But Sir Everard is a good man, and
he’ll be there if laudanum and bath-chair make it possible.”
The same kind of conversation went on during the whole of dinner, and
became, if anything, more animated when the three ladies had left the
room. Mr. Kennedy made but one remark, and then he observed that as
far as he could see a majority of nineteen would be as serviceable
as a majority of twenty. This he said in a very mild voice, and in
a tone that was intended to be expressive of doubt; but in spite of
his humility Barrington Erle flew at him almost savagely,--as though
a liberal member of the House of Commons was disgraced by so mean a
spirit; and Phineas found himself despising the man for his want of
zeal.
“If we are to beat them, let us beat them well,” said Phineas.
“Let there be no doubt about it,” said Barrington Erle.
“I should like to see every man with a seat polled,” said Bonteen.
“Poor Sir Everard!” said Lord Brentford. “It will kill him, no doubt,
but I suppose the seat is safe.”
“Oh, yes; Llanwrwsth is quite safe,” said Barrington, in his
eagerness omitting to catch Lord Brentford’s grim joke.
Phineas went up into the drawing-room for a few minutes after dinner,
and was eagerly desirous of saying a few more words,--he knew not
what words,--to Lady Laura. Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Bonteen had left
the dining-room first, and Phineas again found Mr. Kennedy standing
close to Lady Laura’s shoulder. Could it be possible that there was
anything in it? Mr. Kennedy was an unmarried man, with an immense
fortune, a magnificent place, a seat in Parliament, and was not
perhaps above forty years of age. There could be no reason why he
should not ask Lady Laura to be his wife,--except, indeed, that he
did not seem to have sufficient words at command to ask anybody for
anything. But could it be that such a woman as Lady Laura could
accept such a man as Mr. Kennedy because of his wealth, and because
of his fine place,--a man who had not a word to throw to a dog, who
did not seem to be possessed of an idea, who hardly looked like a
gentleman;--so Phineas told himself. But in truth Mr. Kennedy, though
he was a plain, unattractive man, with nothing in his personal
appearance to call for remark, was not unlike a gentleman in his
usual demeanour. Phineas himself, it may be here said, was six feet
high, and very handsome, with bright blue eyes, and brown wavy hair,
and light silken beard. Mrs. Low had told her husband more than once
that he was much too handsome to do any good. Mr. Low, however, had
replied that young Finn had never shown himself to be conscious of
his own personal advantages. “He’ll learn it soon enough,” said Mrs.
Low. “Some woman will tell him, and then he’ll be spoilt.” I do not
think that Phineas depended much as yet on his own good looks, but
he felt that Mr. Kennedy ought to be despised by such a one as Lady
Laura Standish, because his looks were not good. And she must despise
him! It could not be that a woman so full of life should be willing
to put up with a man who absolutely seemed to have no life within
him. And yet why was he there, and why was he allowed to hang about
just over her shoulders? Phineas Finn began to feel himself to be an
injured man.
But Lady Laura had the power of dispelling instantly this sense of
injury. She had done it effectually in the dining-room by calling him
to the seat by her side, to the express exclusion of the millionaire,
and she did it again now by walking away from Mr. Kennedy to the spot
on which Phineas had placed himself somewhat sulkily.
“Of course you’ll be at the club on Friday morning after the
division,” she said.
“No doubt.”
“When you leave it, come and tell me what are your impressions, and
what you think of Mr. Daubeny’s speech. There’ll be nothing done in
the House before four, and you’ll be able to run up to me.”
“Certainly I will.”
“I have asked Mr. Kennedy to come, and Mr. Fitzgibbon. I am so
anxious about it, that I want to hear what different people say.
You know, perhaps, that papa is to be in the Cabinet if there’s a
change.”
“Is he indeed?”
“Oh yes;--and you’ll come up?”
“Of course I will. Do you expect to hear much of an opinion from Mr.
Kennedy?”
“Yes, I do. You don’t quite know Mr. Kennedy yet. And you must
remember that he will say more to me than he will to you. He’s
not quick, you know, as you are, and he has no enthusiasm on any
subject;--but he has opinions, and sound opinions too.” Phineas
felt that Lady Laura was in a slight degree scolding him for the
disrespectful manner in which he had spoken of Mr. Kennedy; and he
felt also that he had committed himself,--that he had shown himself
to be sore, and that she had seen and understood his soreness.
“The truth is I do not know him,” said he, trying to correct his
blunder.
“No;--not as yet. But I hope that you may some day, as he is one of
those men who are both useful and estimable.”
“I do not know that I can use him,” said Phineas; “but if you wish
it, I will endeavour to esteem him.”
“I wish you to do both;--but that will all come in due time. I think
it probable that in the early autumn there will be a great gathering
of the real Whig Liberals at Loughlinter;--of those, I mean, who have
their heart in it, and are at the same time gentlemen. If it is so,
I should be sorry that you should not be there. You need not mention
it, but Mr. Kennedy has just said a word about it to papa, and a
word from him always means so much! Well;--good-night; and mind you
come up on Friday. You are going to the club, now, of course. I envy
you men your clubs more than I do the House;--though I feel that
a woman’s life is only half a life, as she cannot have a seat in
Parliament.”
Then Phineas went away, and walked down to Pall Mall with Laurence
Fitzgibbon. He would have preferred to take his walk alone, but he
could not get rid of his affectionate countryman. He wanted to think
over what had taken place during the evening; and, indeed, he did so
in spite of his friend’s conversation. Lady Laura, when she first saw
him after his return to London, had told him how anxious her father
was to congratulate him on his seat, but the Earl had not spoken a
word to him on the subject. The Earl had been courteous, as hosts
customarily are, but had been in no way specially kind to him. And
then Mr. Kennedy! As to going to Loughlinter, he would not do such a
thing,--not though the success of the liberal party were to depend on
it. He declared to himself that there were some things which a man
could not do. But although he was not altogether satisfied with what
had occurred in Portman Square, he felt as he walked down arm-in-arm
with Fitzgibbon that Mr. Low and Mr. Low’s counsels must be scattered
to the winds. He had thrown the die in consenting to stand for
Loughshane, and must stand the hazard of the cast.
“Bedad, Phin, my boy, I don’t think you’re listening to me at all,”
said Laurence Fitzgibbon.
“I’m listening to every word you say,” said Phineas.
“And if I have to go down to the ould country again this session,
you’ll go with me?”
“If I can I will.”
“That’s my boy! And it’s I that hope you’ll have the chance. What’s
the good of turning these fellows out if one isn’t to get something
for one’s trouble?”