Promotion
Phineas got no card from Lady Baldock, but one morning he received
a note from Lord Brentford which was of more importance to him than
any card could have been. At this time, bit by bit, the Reform
Bill of the day had nearly made its way through the committee, but
had been so mutilated as to be almost impossible of recognition
by its progenitors. And there was still a clause or two as to
the rearrangement of seats, respecting which it was known that
there would be a combat,--probably combats,--carried on after the
internecine fashion. There was a certain clipping of counties to be
done, as to which it was said that Mr. Daubeny had declared that
he would not yield till he was made to do so by the brute force of
majorities;--and there was another clause for the drafting of certain
superfluous members from little boroughs, and bestowing them on
populous towns at which they were much wanted, respecting which
Mr. Turnbull had proclaimed that the clause as it now stood was a
fainéant clause, capable of doing, and intended to do, no good in the
proper direction; a clause put into the bill to gull ignorant folk
who had not eyes enough to recognise the fact that it was fainéant; a
make-believe clause,--so said Mr. Turnbull,--to be detested on that
account by every true reformer worse than the old Philistine bonds
and Tory figments of representation, as to which there was at least
no hypocritical pretence of popular fitness. Mr. Turnbull had been
very loud and very angry,--had talked much of demonstrations among
the people, and had almost threatened the House. The House in its
present mood did not fear any demonstrations,--but it did fear that
Mr. Turnbull might help Mr. Daubeny, and that Mr. Daubeny might help
Mr. Turnbull. It was now May,--the middle of May,--and ministers, who
had been at work on their Reform Bill ever since the beginning of the
session, were becoming weary of it. And then, should these odious
clauses escape the threatened Turnbull-Daubeny alliance,--then there
was the House of Lords! “What a pity we can’t pass our bills at the
Treasury, and have done with them!” said Laurence Fitzgibbon. “Yes,
indeed,” replied Mr. Ratler. “For myself, I was never so tired of a
session in my life. I wouldn’t go through it again to be made,--no,
not to be made Chancellor of the Exchequer.”
Lord Brentford’s note to Phineas Finn was as follows:--
House of Lords, 16th May, 186--.
MY DEAR MR. FINN,
You are no doubt aware that Lord Bosanquet’s death has
taken Mr. Mottram into the Upper House, and that as
he was Under-Secretary for the Colonies, and as the
Under-Secretary must be in the Lower House, the vacancy
must be filled up.
The heart of Phineas Finn at this moment was almost in his mouth. Not
only to be selected for political employment, but to be selected at
once for an office so singularly desirable! Under-Secretaries, he
fancied, were paid two thousand a year. What would Mr. Low say now?
But his great triumph soon received a check. “Mr. Mildmay has spoken
to me on the subject,” continued the letter, “and informs me that
he has offered the place at the colonies to his old supporter, Mr.
Laurence Fitzgibbon.” Laurence Fitzgibbon!
I am inclined to think that he could not have done better,
as Mr. Fitzgibbon has shown great zeal for his party. This
will vacate the Irish seat at the Treasury Board, and I am
commissioned by Mr. Mildmay to offer it to you. Perhaps
you will do me the pleasure of calling on me to-morrow
between the hours of eleven and twelve.
Yours very sincerely,
BRENTFORD.
Phineas was himself surprised to find that his first feeling on
reading this letter was one of dissatisfaction. Here were his golden
hopes about to be realised,--hopes as to the realisation of which
he had been quite despondent twelve months ago,--and yet he was
uncomfortable because he was to be postponed to Laurence Fitzgibbon.
Had the new Under-Secretary been a man whom he had not known, whom he
had not learned to look down upon as inferior to himself, he would
not have minded it,--would have been full of joy at the promotion
proposed for himself. But Laurence Fitzgibbon was such a poor
creature, that the idea of filling a place from which Laurence had
risen was distasteful to him. “It seems to be all a matter of favour
and convenience,” he said to himself, “without any reference to the
service.” His triumph would have been so complete had Mr. Mildmay
allowed him to go into the higher place at one leap. Other men who
had made themselves useful had done so. In the first hour after
receiving Lord Brentford’s letter, the idea of becoming a Lord of the
Treasury was almost displeasing to him. He had an idea that junior
lordships of the Treasury were generally bestowed on young members
whom it was convenient to secure, but who were not good at doing
anything. There was a moment in which he thought that he would refuse
to be made a junior lord.
But during the night cooler reflections told him that he had been
very wrong. He had taken up politics with the express desire of
getting his foot upon a rung of the ladder of promotion, and now, in
his third session, he was about to be successful. Even as a junior
lord he would have a thousand a year; and how long might he have sat
in chambers, and have wandered about Lincoln’s Inn, and have loitered
in the courts striving to look as though he had business, before he
would have earned a thousand a year! Even as a junior lord he could
make himself useful, and when once he should be known to be a good
working man, promotion would come to him. No ladder can be mounted
without labour; but this ladder was now open above his head, and he
already had his foot upon it.
At half-past eleven he was with Lord Brentford, who received him
with the blandest smile and a pressure of the hand which was quite
cordial. “My dear Finn,” he said, “this gives me the most sincere
pleasure,--the greatest pleasure in the world. Our connection
together at Loughton of course makes it doubly agreeable to me.”
“I cannot be too grateful to you, Lord Brentford.”
“No, no; no, no. It is all your own doing. When Mr. Mildmay asked
me whether I did not think you the most promising of the young
members on our side in your House, I certainly did say that I quite
concurred. But I should be taking too much on myself, I should be
acting dishonestly, if I were to allow you to imagine that it was my
proposition. Had he asked me to recommend, I should have named you;
that I say frankly. But he did not. He did not. Mr. Mildmay named you
himself. ‘Do you think,’ he said, ‘that your friend Finn would join
us at the Treasury?’ I told him that I did think so. ‘And do you not
think,’ said he, ‘that it would be a useful appointment?’ Then I
ventured to say that I had no doubt whatever on that point;--that I
knew you well enough to feel confident that you would lend a strength
to the Liberal Government. Then there were a few words said about
your seat, and I was commissioned to write to you. That was all.”
Phineas was grateful, but not too grateful, and bore himself very
well in the interview. He explained to Lord Brentford that of course
it was his object to serve the country,--and to be paid for his
services,--and that he considered himself to be very fortunate to be
selected so early in his career for parliamentary place. He would
endeavour to do his duty, and could safely say of himself that he did
not wish to eat the bread of idleness. As he made this assertion, he
thought of Laurence Fitzgibbon. Laurence Fitzgibbon had eaten the
bread of idleness, and yet he was promoted. But Phineas said nothing
to Lord Brentford about his idle friend. When he had made his little
speech he asked a question about the borough.
“I have already ventured to write a letter to my agent at Loughton,
telling him that you have accepted office, and that you will be
shortly there again. He will see Shortribs and arrange it. But if I
were you I should write to Shortribs and to Grating,--after I had
seen Mr. Mildmay. Of course you will not mention my name,” And the
Earl looked very grave as he uttered this caution.
“Of course I will not,” said Phineas.
“I do not think you’ll find any difficulty about the seat,” said the
peer. “There never has been any difficulty at Loughton yet. I must
say that for them. And if we can scrape through with Clause 72 we
shall be all right;--shall we not?” This was the clause as to which
so violent an opposition was expected from Mr. Turnbull,--a clause as
to which Phineas himself had felt that he would hardly know how to
support the Government, in the event of the committee being pressed
to a division upon it. Could he, an ardent reformer, a reformer
at heart,--could he say that such a borough as Loughton should be
spared;--that the arrangement by which Shortribs and Grating had sent
him to Parliament, in obedience to Lord Brentford’s orders, was in
due accord with the theory of a representative legislature? In what
respect had Gatton and Old Sarum been worse than Loughton? Was he
not himself false to his principle in sitting for such a borough
as Loughton? He had spoken to Mr. Monk, and Mr. Monk had told him
that Rome was not built in a day,--and had told him also that good
things were most valued and were more valuable when they came by
instalments. But then Mr. Monk himself enjoyed the satisfaction of
sitting for a popular Constituency. He was not personally pricked
in the conscience by his own parliamentary position. Now, however,
--now that Phineas had consented to join the Government, any such
considerations as these must be laid aside. He could no longer be a
free agent, or even a free thinker. He had been quite aware of this,
and had taught himself to understand that members of Parliament in
the direct service of the Government were absolved from the necessity
of free-thinking. Individual free-thinking was incompatible with the
position of a member of the Government, and unless such abnegation
were practised, no government would be possible. It was of course a
man’s duty to bind himself together with no other men but those with
whom, on matters of general policy, he could agree heartily;--but
having found that he could so agree, he knew that it would be his
duty as a subaltern to vote as he was directed. It would trouble his
conscience less to sit for Loughton and vote for an objectionable
clause as a member of the Government, than it would have done to give
such a vote as an independent member. In so resolving, he thought
that he was simply acting in accordance with the acknowledged rules
of parliamentary government. And therefore, when Lord Brentford spoke
of Clause 72, he could answer pleasantly, “I think we shall carry
it; and, you see, in getting it through committee, if we can carry
it by one, that is as good as a hundred. That’s the comfort of
close-fighting in committee. In the open House we are almost as much
beaten by a narrow majority as by a vote against us.”
“Just so; just so,” said Lord Brentford, delighted to see that his
young pupil,--as he regarded him,--understood so well the system of
parliamentary management. “By-the-bye, Finn, have you seen Chiltern
lately?”
“Not quite lately,” said Phineas, blushing up to his eyes.
“Or heard from him?”
“No;--nor heard from him. When last I heard of him he was in
Brussels.”
“Ah,--yes; he is somewhere on the Rhine now. I thought that as you
were so intimate, perhaps you corresponded with him. Have you heard
that we have arranged about Lady Laura’s money?”
“I have heard. Lady Laura has told me.”
“I wish he would return,” said Lord Brentford sadly,--almost
solemnly. “As that great difficulty is over, I would receive him
willingly, and make my house pleasant to him, if I can do so. I am
most anxious that he should settle, and marry. Could you not write
to him?” Phineas, not daring to tell Lord Brentford that he had
quarrelled with Lord Chiltern,--feeling that if he did so everything
would go wrong,--said that he would write to Lord Chiltern.
As he went away he felt that he was bound to get an answer from
Violet Effingham. If it should be necessary, he was willing to break
with Lord Brentford on that matter,--even though such breaking should
lose him his borough and his place;--but not on any other matter.