The Beginning of a New Career
By the time that the Easter holidays were over,--holidays which had
been used so conveniently for the making of a new government,--the
work of getting a team together had been accomplished by the united
energy of the two dukes and other friends. The filling up of the
great places had been by no means so difficult or so tedious,--nor
indeed the cause of half so many heartburns,--as the completion of
the list of the subordinates. _Noblesse oblige._ The Secretaries of
State, and the Chancellors, and the First Lords, selected from this
or the other party, felt that the eyes of mankind were upon them, and
that it behoved them to assume a virtue if they had it not. They were
habitually indifferent to self-exaltation, and allowed themselves
to be thrust into this or that unfitting role, professing that the
Queen's Government and the good of the country were their only
considerations. Lord Thrift made way for Sir Orlando Drought at the
Admiralty, because it was felt on all sides that Sir Orlando could
not join the new composite party without high place. And the same
grace was shown in regard to Lord Drummond, who remained at the
Colonies, keeping the office to which he had been lately transferred
under Mr. Daubeny. And Sir Gregory Grogram said not a word, whatever
he may have thought, when he was told that Mr. Daubeny's Lord
Chancellor, Lord Ramsden, was to keep the seals. Sir Gregory did,
no doubt, think very much about it; for legal offices have a
signification differing much from that which attaches itself to
places simply political. A Lord Chancellor becomes a peer, and on
going out of office enjoys a large pension. When the woolsack has
been reached there comes an end of doubt, and a beginning of ease.
Sir Gregory was not a young man, and this was a terrible blow. But he
bore it manfully, saying not a word when the Duke spoke to him; but
he became convinced from that moment that no more inefficient lawyer
ever sat upon the English bench, or a more presumptuous politician in
the British Parliament, than Lord Ramsden.
The real struggle, however, lay in the appropriate distribution of
the Rattlers and the Robys, the Fitzgibbons and the Macphersons among
the subordinate offices of State. Mr. Macpherson and Mr. Roby, with
a host of others who had belonged to Mr. Daubeny, were prepared, as
they declared from the first, to lend their assistance to the Duke.
They had consulted Mr. Daubeny on the subject, and Mr. Daubeny told
them that their duty lay in that direction. At the first blush of
the matter the arrangement took the form of a gracious tender from
themselves to a statesman called upon to act in very difficult
circumstances,--and they were thanked accordingly by the Duke, with
something of real cordial gratitude. But when the actual adjustment
of things was in hand, the Duke, having but little power of assuming
a soft countenance and using soft words while his heart was bitter,
felt on more than one occasion inclined to withdraw his thanks. He
was astounded not so much by the pretensions as by the unblushing
assertion of these pretensions in reference to places which he had
been innocent enough to think were always bestowed at any rate
without direct application. He had measured himself rightly when he
told the older duke in one of those anxious conversations which had
been held before the attempt was made, that long as he had been in
office himself he did not know what was the way of bestowing office.
"Two gentlemen have been here this morning," he said one day to the
Duke of St. Bungay, "one on the heels of the other, each assuring me
not only that the whole stability of the enterprise depends on my
giving a certain office to him,--but actually telling me to my face
that I had promised it to him!" The old statesman laughed. "To be
told within the same half-hour by two men that I had made promises to
each of them inconsistent with each other!"
"Who were the two men?"
"Mr. Rattler and Mr. Roby."
"I am assured that they are inseparable since the work was begun.
They always had a leaning to each other, and now I hear they pass
their time between the steps of the Carlton and Reform Clubs."
"But what am I to do? One must be Patronage Secretary, no doubt."
"They're both good men in their way, you know."
"But why do they come to me with their mouths open, like dogs craving
a bone? It used not to be so. Of course men were always anxious for
office as they are now."
"Well; yes. We've heard of that before to-day, I think."
"But I don't think any man ever ventured to ask Mr. Mildmay."
"Time had done much for him in consolidating his authority, and
perhaps the present world is less reticent in its eagerness than
it was in his younger days. I doubt, however, whether it is more
dishonest, and whether struggles were not made quite as disgraceful
to the strugglers as anything that is done now. You can't alter the
men, and you must use them." The younger Duke sat down and sighed
over the degenerate patriotism of the age.
But at last even the Rattlers and Robys were fixed, if not satisfied,
and a complete list of the ministry appeared in all the newspapers.
Though the thing had been long a-doing, still it had come
suddenly,--so that at the first proposition to form a coalition
ministry, the newspapers had hardly known whether to assist or to
oppose the scheme. There was no doubt, in the minds of all these
editors and contributors, the teaching of a tradition that coalitions
of this kind have been generally feeble, sometimes disastrous, and
on occasions even disgraceful. When a man, perhaps through a long
political life, has bound himself to a certain code of opinions, how
can he change that code at a moment? And when at the same moment,
together with the change, he secures power, patronage, and pay, how
shall the public voice absolve him? But then again men, who have
by the work of their lives grown into a certain position in the
country, and have unconsciously but not therefore less actually made
themselves indispensable either to this side in politics or to that,
cannot free themselves altogether from the responsibility of managing
them when a period comes such as that now reached. This also the
newspapers perceived; and having, since the commencement of the
Session, been very loud in exposing the disgraceful collapse of
government affairs, could hardly refuse their support to any attempt
at a feasible arrangement. When it was first known that the Duke of
Omnium had consented to make the attempt, they had both on one side
and the other been loud in his praise, going so far as to say that he
was the only man in England who could do the work. It was probably
this encouragement which had enabled the new Premier to go on with an
undertaking which was personally distasteful to him, and for which
from day to day he believed himself to be less and less fit. But when
the newspapers told him that he was the only man for the occasion,
how could he be justified in crediting himself in preference to them?
The work in Parliament began under the new auspices with great
tranquillity. That there would soon come causes of hot blood,--the
English Church, the county suffrage, the income tax, and further
education questions,--all men knew who knew anything. But for the
moment, for the month even, perhaps for the Session, there was to
be peace, with full latitude for the performance of routine duties.
There was so to say no opposition, and at first it seemed that one
special bench in the House of Commons would remain unoccupied. But
after a day or two,--on one of which Mr. Daubeny had been seen
sitting just below the gangway,--that gentleman returned to the place
usually held by the Prime Minister's rival, saying with a smile that
it might be for the convenience of the House that the seat should be
utilised. Mr. Gresham at this time had, with declared purpose, asked
and obtained the Speaker's leave of absence and was abroad. Who
should lead the House? That had been a great question, caused by the
fact that the Prime Minister was in the House of Lords;--and what
office should the Leader hold? Mr. Monk had consented to take the
Exchequer, but the right to sit opposite to the Treasury Box and to
consider himself for the time the principal spirit in that chamber
was at last assigned to Sir Orlando Drought. "It will never do,"
said Mr. Rattler to Mr. Roby. "I don't mean to say anything against
Drought, who has always been a very useful man to your party;--but he
lacks something of the position."
"The fact is," said Roby, "that we've trusted to two men so long that
we don't know how to suppose any one else big enough to fill their
places. Monk wouldn't have done. The House doesn't care about Monk."
"I always thought it should be Wilson, and so I told the Duke. He had
an idea that it should be one of your men."
"I think he's right there," said Roby. "There ought to be something
like a fair division. Individuals might be content, but the party
would be dissatisfied. For myself, I'd have sooner stayed out as an
independent member, but Daubeny said that he thought I was bound to
make myself useful."
"I told the Duke from the beginning," said Rattler, "that I didn't
think that I could be of any service to him. Of course, I would
support him, but I had been too thoroughly a party man for a new
movement of this kind. But he said just the same!--that he considered
I was bound to join him. I asked Gresham, and when Gresham said so
too, of course I had no help for it."
Neither of these excellent public servants had told a lie in this.
Some such conversations as those reported had passed;--but a man
doesn't lie when he exaggerates an emphasis, or even when he gives
by a tone a meaning to a man's words exactly opposite to that which
another tone would convey. Or, if he does lie in doing so, he does
not know that he lies. Mr. Rattler had gone back to his old office at
the Treasury and Mr. Roby had been forced to content himself with the
Secretaryship at the Admiralty. But, as the old Duke had said, they
were close friends, and prepared to fight together any battle which
might keep them in their present position.
Many of the cares of office the Prime Minister did succeed in
shuffling off altogether on to the shoulders of his elder friend.
He would not concern himself with the appointment of ladies, about
whom he said he knew nothing, and as to whose fitness and claims he
professed himself to be as ignorant as the office messenger. The
offers were of course made in the usual form, as though coming direct
from the Queen, through the Prime Minister;--but the selections were
in truth effected by the old Duke in council with--an illustrious
personage. The matter affected our Duke,--only in so far that he
could not get out of his mind that strange application from his own
wife. "That she should have even dreamed of it!" he would say to
himself, not yet having acquired sufficient experience of his fellow
creatures to be aware how wonderfully temptations will affect even
those who appear to be least subject to them. The town horse, used to
gaudy trappings, no doubt despises the work of his country brother;
but yet, now and again, there comes upon him a sudden desire to
plough. The desire for ploughing had come upon the Duchess, but the
Duke could not understand it.
He perceived, however, in spite of the multiplicity of his official
work, that his refusal sat heavily on his wife's breast, and that,
though she spoke no further word, she brooded over her injury. And
his heart was sad within him when he thought that he had vexed
her,--loving her as he did with all his heart, but with a heart
that was never demonstrative. When she was unhappy he was miserable,
though he would hardly know the cause of his misery. Her ridicule and
raillery he could bear, though they stung him; but her sorrow, if
ever she were sorrowful, or her sullenness, if ever she were sullen,
upset him altogether. He was in truth so soft of heart that he could
not bear the discomfort of the one person in the world who seemed to
him to be near to him. He had expressly asked her for her sympathy
in the business he had on hand,--thereby going much beyond his usual
coldness of manner. She, with an eagerness which might have been
expected from her, had promised that she would slave for him, if
slavery were necessary. Then she had made her request, had been
refused, and was now moody. "The Duchess of ---- is to be Mistress
of the Robes," he said to her one day. He had gone to her, up to her
own room, before he dressed for dinner, having devoted much more time
than as Prime Minister he ought to have done to a resolution that he
would make things straight with her, and to the best way of doing it.
"So I am told. She ought to know her way about the place, as I
remember she was at the same work when I was a girl of eleven."
"That's not so very long ago, Cora."
"Silverbridge is older now than I was then, and I think that makes it
a very long time ago." Lord Silverbridge was the Duke's eldest son.
"But what does it matter? If she began her career in the time of
George the Fourth, what is it to you?"
"Nothing on earth,--only that she did in truth begin her career
in the time of George the Third. I'm sure she's nearer sixty than
fifty."
"I'm glad to see you remember your dates so well."
"It's a pity she should not remember hers in the way she dresses,"
said the Duchess.
This was marvellous to him,--that his wife, who as Lady Glencora
Palliser had been so conspicuous for a wild disregard of social rules
as to be looked upon by many as an enemy of her own class, should be
so depressed by not being allowed to be the Queen's head servant as
to descend to personal invective! "I'm afraid," said he, attempting
to smile, "that it won't come within the compass of my office to
effect or even to propose any radical change in her Grace's apparel.
But don't you think that you and I can afford to ignore all that?"
"I can certainly. She may be an antiquated Eve for me."
"I hope, Cora, you are not still disappointed because I did not agree
with you when you spoke about the place for yourself."
"Not because you did not agree with me,--but because you did not
think me fit to be trusted with any judgment of my own. I don't know
why I'm always to be looked upon as different from other women,--as
though I were half a savage."
"You are what you have made yourself, and I have always rejoiced that
you are as you are, fresh, untrammelled, without many prejudices
which afflict other ladies, and free from bonds by which they are
cramped and confined. Of course such a turn of character is subject
to certain dangers of its own."
"There is no doubt about the dangers. The chances are that when I see
her Grace I shall tell her what I think about her."
"You will I am sure say nothing unkind to a lady who is supposed to
be in the place she now fills by my authority. But do not let us
quarrel about an old woman."
"I won't quarrel with you even about a young one."
"I cannot be at ease within myself while I think you are resenting my
refusal. You do not know how constantly I carry you about with me."
"You carry a very unnecessary burden then," she said. But he could
tell at once from the altered tone of her voice, and from the light
of her eye as he glanced into her face, that her anger about "The
Robes" was appeased.
"I have done as you asked about a friend of yours," he said. This
occurred just before the final and perfected list of the new men had
appeared in all the newspapers.
"What friend?"
"Mr. Finn is to go to Ireland."
"Go to Ireland!--How do you mean?"
"It is looked upon as being very great promotion. Indeed I am told
that he is considered to be the luckiest man in all the scramble."
"You don't mean as Chief Secretary?"
"Yes, I do. He certainly couldn't go as Lord Lieutenant."
"But they said that Barrington Erle was going to Ireland."
"Well; yes. I don't know that you'd be interested by all the ins and
outs of it. But Mr. Erle declined. It seems that Mr. Erle is after
all the one man in Parliament modest enough not to consider himself
to be fit for any place that can be offered to him."
"Poor Barrington! He does not like the idea of crossing the Channel
so often. I quite sympathise with him. And so Phineas is to be
Secretary for Ireland! Not in the Cabinet?"
"No;--not in the Cabinet. It is not by any means usual that he should
be."
"That is promotion, and I am glad! Poor Phineas! I hope they won't
murder him, or anything of that kind. They do murder people, you
know, sometimes."
"He's an Irishman himself."
"That's just the reason why they should. He must put up with that of
course. I wonder whether she'll like going. They'll be able to spend
money, which they always like, over there. He comes backwards and
forwards every week,--doesn't he?"
"Not quite that, I believe."
"I shall miss her, if she has to stay away long. I know you don't
like her."
"I do like her. She has always behaved well, both to me and to my
uncle."
"She was an angel to him,--and to you too, if you only knew it. I
dare say you're sending him to Ireland so as to get her away from
me." This she said with a smile, as though not meaning it altogether,
but yet half meaning it.
"I have asked him to undertake the office," said the Duke solemnly,
"because I am told that he is fit for it. But I did have some
pleasure in proposing it to him because I thought that it would
please you."
"It does please me, and I won't be cross any more, and the Duchess
of ---- may wear her clothes just as she pleases, or go without them.
And as for Mrs. Finn, I don't see why she should be with him always
when he goes. You can quite understand how necessary she is to me.
But she is in truth the only woman in London to whom I can say what I
think. And it is a comfort, you know, to have some one."
In this way the domestic peace of the Prime Minister was readjusted,
and that sympathy and co-operation for which he had first asked
was accorded to him. It may be a question whether on the whole the
Duchess did not work harder than he did. She did not at first dare to
expound to him those grand ideas which she had conceived in regard to
magnificence and hospitality. She said nothing of any extraordinary
expenditure of money. But she set herself to work after her own
fashion, making to him suggestions as to dinners and evening
receptions, to which he objected only on the score of time. "You must
eat your dinner somewhere," she said, "and you need only come in just
before we sit down, and go into your own room if you please without
coming upstairs at all. I can at any rate do that part of it for
you." And she did do that part of it with marvellous energy all
through the month of May,--so that by the end of the month, within
six weeks of the time at which she first heard of the Coalition
Ministry, all the world had begun to talk of the Prime Minister's
dinners, and of the receptions given by the Prime Minister's wife.