Autumnal Prospects
The session went on very calmly after the opening battle which ousted
Lord de Terrier and sent Mr. Mildmay back to the Treasury,--so calmly
that Phineas Finn was unconsciously disappointed, as lacking that
excitement of contest to which he had been introduced in the first
days of his parliamentary career. From time to time certain waspish
attacks were made by Mr. Daubeny, now on this Secretary of State and
now on that; but they were felt by both parties to mean nothing; and
as no great measure was brought forward, nothing which would serve
by the magnitude of its interests to divide the liberal side of the
House into fractions, Mr. Mildmay’s Cabinet was allowed to hold its
own in comparative peace and quiet. It was now July,--the middle of
July,--and the member for Loughshane had not yet addressed the House.
How often had he meditated doing so; how he had composed his speeches
walking round the Park on his way down to the House; how he got his
subjects up,--only to find on hearing them discussed that he really
knew little or nothing about them; how he had his arguments and
almost his very words taken out of his mouth by some other member;
and lastly, how he had actually been deterred from getting upon his
legs by a certain tremor of blood round his heart when the moment
for rising had come,--of all this he never said a word to any man.
Since that last journey to county Mayo, Laurence Fitzgibbon had been
his most intimate friend, but he said nothing of all this even to
Laurence Fitzgibbon. To his other friend, Lady Laura Standish, he did
explain something of his feelings, not absolutely describing to her
the extent of hindrance to which his modesty had subjected him, but
letting her know that he had his qualms as well as his aspirations.
But as Lady Laura always recommended patience, and more than once
expressed her opinion that a young member would be better to sit
in silence at least for one session, he was not driven to the
mortification of feeling that he was incurring her contempt by his
bashfulness. As regarded the men among whom he lived, I think he was
almost annoyed at finding that no one seemed to expect that he should
speak. Barrington Erle, when he had first talked of sending Phineas
down to Loughshane, had predicted for him all manner of parliamentary
successes, and had expressed the warmest admiration of the manner in
which Phineas had discussed this or that subject at the Union. “We
have not above one or two men in the House who can do that kind of
thing,” Barrington Erle had once said. But now no allusions whatever
were made to his powers of speech, and Phineas in his modest moments
began to be more amazed than ever that he should find himself seated
in that chamber.
To the forms and technicalities of parliamentary business he did give
close attention, and was unremitting in his attendance. On one or two
occasions he ventured to ask a question of the Speaker, and as the
words of experience fell into his ears, he would tell himself that
he was going through his education,--that he was learning to be a
working member, and perhaps to be a statesman. But his regrets with
reference to Mr. Low and the dingy chambers in Old Square were very
frequent; and had it been possible for him to undo all that he had
done, he would often have abandoned to some one else the honour of
representing the electors of Loughshane.
But he was supported in all his difficulties by the kindness of his
friend, Lady Laura Standish. He was often in the house in Portman
Square, and was always received with cordiality, and, as he thought,
almost with affection. She would sit and talk to him, sometimes
saying a word about her brother and sometimes about her father, as
though there were more between them than the casual intimacy of
London acquaintance. And in Portman Square he had been introduced to
Miss Effingham, and had found Miss Effingham to be--very nice. Miss
Effingham had quite taken to him, and he had danced with her at two
or three parties, talking always, as he did so, about Lady Laura
Standish.
“I declare, Laura, I think your friend Mr. Finn is in love with you,”
said Violet to Lady Laura one night.
“I don’t think that. He is fond of me, and so am I of him. He is
so honest, and so naïve without being awkward! And then he is
undoubtedly clever.”
“And so uncommonly handsome,” said Violet.
“I don’t know that that makes much difference,” said Lady Laura.
“I think it does if a man looks like a gentleman as well.”
“Mr. Finn certainly looks like a gentleman,” said Lady Laura.
“And no doubt is one,” said Violet. “I wonder whether he has got any
money.”
“Not a penny, I should say.”
“How does such a man manage to live? There are so many men like that,
and they are always mysteries to me. I suppose he’ll have to marry an
heiress.”
“Whoever gets him will not have a bad husband,” said Lady Laura
Standish.
Phineas during the summer had very often met Mr. Kennedy. They sat
on the same side of the House, they belonged to the same club, they
dined together more than once in Portman Square, and on one occasion
Phineas had accepted an invitation to dinner sent to him by Mr.
Kennedy himself. “A slower affair I never saw in my life,” he said
afterwards to Laurence Fitzgibbon. “Though there were two or three
men there who talk everywhere else, they could not talk at his
table.” “He gave you good wine, I should say,” said Fitzgibbon, “and
let me tell you that that covers a multitude of sins.” In spite,
however, of all these opportunities for intimacy, now, nearly at
the end of the session, Phineas had hardly spoken a dozen words to
Mr. Kennedy, and really knew nothing whatsoever of the man, as one
friend,--or even as one acquaintance knows another. Lady Laura had
desired him to be on good terms with Mr. Kennedy, and for that reason
he had dined with him. Nevertheless he disliked Mr. Kennedy, and felt
quite sure that Mr. Kennedy disliked him. He was therefore rather
surprised when he received the following note:--
Albany, Z 3, July 17, 186--.
MY DEAR MR. FINN,
I shall have some friends at Loughlinter next month, and
should be very glad if you will join us. I will name the
16th August. I don’t know whether you shoot, but there are
grouse and deer.
Yours truly,
ROBERT KENNEDY.
What was he to do? He had already begun to feel rather uncomfortable
at the prospect of being separated from all his new friends as soon
as the session should be over. Laurence Fitzgibbon had asked him to
make another visit to county Mayo, but that he had declined. Lady
Laura had said something to him about going abroad with her brother,
and since that there had sprung up a sort of intimacy between him and
Lord Chiltern; but nothing had been fixed about this foreign trip,
and there were pecuniary objections to it which put it almost out of
his power. The Christmas holidays he would of course pass with his
family at Killaloe, but he hardly liked the idea of hurrying off to
Killaloe immediately the session should be over. Everybody around
him seemed to be looking forward to pleasant leisure doings in the
country. Men talked about grouse, and of the ladies at the houses to
which they were going and of the people whom they were to meet. Lady
Laura had said nothing of her own movements for the early autumn, and
no invitation had come to him to go to the Earl’s country house. He
had already felt that every one would depart and that he would be
left,--and this had made him uncomfortable. What was he to do with
the invitation from Mr. Kennedy? He disliked the man, and had told
himself half a dozen times that he despised him. Of course he must
refuse it. Even for the sake of the scenery, and the grouse, and the
pleasant party, and the feeling that going to Loughlinter in August
would be the proper sort of thing to do, he must refuse it! But it
occurred to him at last that he would call in Portman Square before
he wrote his note.
“Of course you will go,” said Lady Laura, in her most decided tone.
“And why?”
“In the first place it is civil in him to ask you, and why should you
be uncivil in return?”
“There is nothing uncivil in not accepting a man’s invitation,” said
Phineas.
“We are going,” said Lady Laura, “and I can only say that I shall be
disappointed if you do not go too. Both Mr. Gresham and Mr. Monk will
be there, and I believe they have never stayed together in the same
house before. I have no doubt there are a dozen men on your side of
the House who would give their eyes to be there. Of course you will
go.”
Of course he did go. The note accepting Mr. Kennedy’s invitation was
written at the Reform Club within a quarter of an hour of his leaving
Portman Square. He was very careful in writing to be not more
familiar or more civil than Mr. Kennedy had been to himself, and
then he signed himself “Yours truly, Phineas Finn.” But another
proposition was made to him, and a most charming proposition, during
the few minutes that he remained in Portman Square. “I am so glad,”
said Lady Laura, “because I can now ask you to run down to us at
Saulsby for a couple of days on your way to Loughlinter. Till this
was fixed I couldn’t ask you to come all the way to Saulsby for two
days; and there won’t be room for more between our leaving London
and starting to Loughlinter.” Phineas swore that he would have gone
if it had been but for one hour, and if Saulsby had been twice the
distance. “Very well; come on the 13th and go on the 15th. You must
go on the 15th, unless you choose to stay with the housekeeper.
And remember, Mr. Finn, we have got no grouse at Saulsby.” Phineas
declared that he did not care a straw for grouse.
There was another little occurrence which happened before Phineas
left London, and which was not altogether so charming as his
prospects at Saulsby and Loughlinter. Early in August, when the
session was still incomplete, he dined with Laurence Fitzgibbon at
the Reform Club. Laurence had specially invited him to do so, and
made very much of him on the occasion. “By George, my dear fellow,”
Laurence said to him that morning, “nothing has happened to me this
session that has given me so much pleasure as your being in the
House. Of course there are fellows with whom one is very intimate and
of whom one is very fond,--and all that sort of thing. But most of
these Englishmen on our side are such cold fellows; or else they are
like Ratler and Barrington Erle, thinking of nothing but politics.
And then as to our own men, there are so many of them one can hardly
trust! That’s the truth of it. Your being in the House has been such
a comfort to me!” Phineas, who really liked his friend Laurence,
expressed himself very warmly in answer to this, and became
affectionate, and made sundry protestations of friendship which were
perfectly sincere. Their sincerity was tested after dinner, when
Fitzgibbon, as they two were seated on a sofa in the corner of the
smoking-room, asked Phineas to put his name to the back of a bill for
two hundred and fifty pounds at six months’ date.
“But, my dear Laurence,” said Phineas, “two hundred and fifty pounds
is a sum of money utterly beyond my reach.”
“Exactly, my dear boy, and that’s why I’ve come to you. D’ye think
I’d have asked anybody who by any impossibility might have been made
to pay anything for me?”
“But what’s the use of it then?”
“All the use in the world. It’s for me to judge of the use, you know.
Why, d’ye think I’d ask it if it wasn’t any use? I’ll make it of use,
my boy. And take my word, you’ll never hear about it again. It’s just
a forestalling of my salary; that’s all. I wouldn’t do it till I saw
that we were at least safe for six months to come.” Then Phineas Finn
with many misgivings, with much inward hatred of himself for his own
weakness, did put his name on the back of the bill which Laurence
Fitzgibbon had prepared for his signature.