Carlton Terrace
Certainly the thing was done very well by Lady Glen,--as many in the
political world persisted in calling her even in these days. She had
not as yet quite carried out her plan,--the doing of which would have
required her to reconcile her husband to some excessive abnormal
expenditure, and to have obtained from him a deliberate sanction for
appropriation and probable sale of property. She never could find the
proper moment for doing this, having, with all her courage,--low down
in some corner of her heart,--a wholesome fear of a certain quiet
power which her husband possessed. She could not bring herself to
make her proposition;--but she almost acted as though it had been
made and approved. Her house was always gorgeous with flowers. Of
course there would be the bill;--and he, when he saw the exotics, and
the whole place turned into a bower of ever fresh blooming floral
glories, must know that there would be the bill. And when he found
that there was an archducal dinner-party every week, and an almost
imperial reception twice a week; that at these receptions a banquet
was always provided; when he was asked whether she might buy a
magnificent pair of bay carriage-horses, as to which she assured him
that nothing so lovely had ever as yet been seen stepping in the
streets of London,--of course he must know that the bills would come.
It was better, perhaps, to do it in this way, than to make any direct
proposition. And then, early in June, she spoke to him as to the
guests to be invited to Gatherum Castle in August. "Do you want to
go to Gatherum in August?" he asked in surprise. For she hated the
place, and had hardly been content to spend ten days there every year
at Christmas.
"I think it should be done," she said solemnly. "One cannot quite
consider just now what one likes oneself."
"Why not?"
"You would hardly go to a small place like Matching in your present
position. There are so many people whom you should entertain! You
would probably have two or three of the foreign ministers down for a
time."
"We always used to find plenty of room at Matching."
"But you did not always use to be Prime Minister. It is only for such
a time as this that such a house as Gatherum is serviceable."
He was silent for a moment, thinking about it, and then gave way
without another word. She was probably right. There was the huge pile
of magnificent buildings; and somebody, at any rate, had thought that
it behoved a Duke of Omnium to live in such a palace. If it ought to
be done at any time, it ought to be done now. In that his wife had
been right. "Very well. Then let us go there."
"I'll manage it all," said the Duchess,--"I and Locock." Locock was
the house-steward.
"I remember once," said the Duke, and he smiled as he spoke with a
peculiarly sweet expression, which would at times come across his
generally inexpressive face,--"I remember once that some First
Minister of the Crown gave evidence as to the amount of his salary,
saying that his place entailed upon him expenses higher than his
stipend would defray. I begin to think that my experience will be the
same."
"Does that fret you?"
"No, Cora;--it certainly does not fret me, or I should not allow it.
But I think there should be a limit. No man is ever rich enough to
squander."
Though they were to squander her fortune,--the money which she
had brought,--for the next ten years at a much greater rate than
she contemplated, they might do so without touching the Palliser
property. Of that she was quite sure. And the squandering was to be
all for his glory,--so that he might retain his position as a popular
Prime Minister. For an instant it occurred to her that she would tell
him all this. But she checked herself, and the idea of what she had
been about to say brought the blood into her face. Never yet had
she in talking to him alluded to her own wealth. "Of course we are
spending money," she said. "If you give me a hint to hold my hand, I
will hold it."
He had looked at her, and read it all in her face. "God knows," he
said, "you've a right to do it if it pleases you."
"For your sake!" Then he stooped down and kissed her twice, and
left her to arrange her parties as she pleased. After that she
congratulated herself that she had not made the direct proposition,
knowing that she might now do pretty much what she pleased.
Then there were solemn cabinets held, at which she presided, and
Mrs. Finn and Locock assisted. At other cabinets it is supposed that,
let a leader be ever so autocratic by disposition and superior by
intelligence, still he must not unfrequently yield to the opinion of
his colleagues. But in this cabinet the Duchess always had her own
way, though she was very persistent in asking for counsel. Locock was
frightened about the money. Hitherto money had come without a word,
out of the common, spoken to the Duke. The Duke had always signed
certain cheques, but they had been normal cheques; and the money in
its natural course had flown in to meet them;--but now he must be
asked to sign abnormal cheques. That, indeed, had already been done;
but still the money had been there. A large balance, such as had
always stood to his credit, would stand a bigger racket than had yet
been made. But Locock was quite sure that the balance ought not to
be much further reduced,--and that steps must be taken. Something
must be sold! The idea of selling anything was dreadful to the
mind of Locock! Or else money must be borrowed! Now the management
of the Palliser property had always been conducted on principles
antagonistic to borrowing. "But his Grace has never spent his
income," said the Duchess. That was true. But the money, as it showed
a tendency to heap itself up, had been used for the purchase of other
bits of property, or for the amelioration of the estates generally.
"You don't mean to say that we can't get money if we want it!" Locock
was profuse in his assurances that any amount of money could be
obtained,--only that something must be done. "Then let something
be done," said the Duchess, going on with her general plans. "Many
people are rich," said the Duchess afterwards to her friend, "and
some people are very rich indeed; but nobody seems to be rich enough
to have ready money to do just what he wishes. It all goes into a
grand sum total, which is never to be touched without a feeling of
sacrifice. I suppose you have always enough for everything." It was
well known that the present Mrs. Finn, as Madame Goesler, had been a
wealthy woman.
"Indeed, no;--very far from that. I haven't a shilling."
"What has happened?" asked the Duchess, pretending to be frightened.
"You forget that I've got a husband of my own, and that he has to be
consulted."
"That must be nonsense. But don't you think women are fools to marry
when they've got anything of their own, and could be their own
mistresses? I couldn't have been. I was made to marry before I was
old enough to assert myself."
"And how well they did for you!"
"Pas si mal.--He's Prime Minister, which is a great thing, and I
begin to find myself filled to the full with political ambition.
I feel myself to be a Lady Macbeth, prepared for the murder of
any Duncan or any Daubeny who may stand in my lord's way. In
the meantime, like Lady Macbeth herself, we must attend to the
banqueting. Her lord appeared and misbehaved himself; my lord won't
show himself at all,--which I think is worse."
Our old friend Phineas Finn, who had now reached a higher place in
politics than even his political dreams had assigned to him, though
he was a Member of Parliament, was much away from London in these
days. New brooms sweep clean; and official new brooms, I think, sweep
cleaner than any other. Who has not watched at the commencement of
a Ministry some Secretary, some Lord, or some Commissioner, who
intends by fresh Herculean labours to cleanse the Augean stables just
committed to his care? Who does not know the gentleman at the Home
Office, who means to reform the police and put an end to malefactors;
or the new Minister at the Board of Works, who is to make London
beautiful as by a magician's stroke,--or, above all, the new First
Lord, who is resolved that he will really build us a fleet, purge
the dock-yards, and save us half a million a year at the same
time? Phineas Finn was bent on unriddling the Irish sphinx. Surely
something might be done to prove to his susceptible countrymen that
at the present moment no curse could be laid upon them so heavy as
that of having to rule themselves apart from England; and he thought
that this might be the easier, as he became from day to day more
thoroughly convinced that those Home Rulers who were all around
him in the House were altogether of the same opinion. Had some
inscrutable decree of fate ordained and made it certain,--with a
certainty not to be disturbed,--that no candidate could be returned
to Parliament who would not assert the earth to be triangular, there
would rise immediately a clamorous assertion of triangularity among
political aspirants. The test would be innocent. Candidates have
swallowed, and daily do swallow, many a worse one. As might be this
doctrine of a great triangle, so is the doctrine of Home Rule. Why is
a gentleman of property to be kept out in the cold by some O'Mullins
because he will not mutter an unmeaning shibboleth? "Triangular?
Yes,--or lozenge-shaped, if you please; but, gentlemen, I am the man
for Tipperary." Phineas Finn, having seen, or thought that he had
seen, all this, began, from the very first moment of his appointment,
to consider painfully within himself whether the genuine services of
an honest and patriotic man might not compass some remedy for the
present ill-boding ferment of the country. What was it that the Irish
really did want;--what that they wanted, and had not got, and which
might with propriety be conceded to them? What was it that the
English really would refuse to sanction, even though it might not be
wanted? He found himself beating about among rocks as to Catholic
education and Papal interference, the passage among which might be
made clearer to him in Irish atmosphere than in that of Westminster.
Therefore he was away a good deal in these days, travelling backwards
and forwards as he might be wanted for any debate. But as his wife
did not accompany him on these fitful journeys, she was able to give
her time very much to the Duchess.
The Duchess was on the whole very successful with her parties. There
were people who complained that she had everybody; that there was no
selection whatever as to politics, principles, rank, morals,--or even
manners. But in such a work as the Duchess had now taken in hand, it
was impossible that she should escape censure. They who really knew
what was being done were aware that nobody was asked to that house
without an idea that his or her presence might be desirable,--in
however remote a degree. Paragraphs in newspapers go for much,
and therefore the writers and editors of such paragraphs were
there,--sometimes with their wives. Mr. Broune, of the "Breakfast
Table," was to be seen there constantly, with his wife Lady Carbury,
and poor old Booker of the "Literary Chronicle." City men can make a
budget popular or the reverse, and therefore the Mills Happertons of
the day were welcome. Rising barristers might be wanted to become
Solicitors-General. The pet Orpheus of the hour, the young tragic
actor who was thought to have a real Hamlet within him, the old
painter who was growing rich on his reputation, and the young painter
who was still strong with hope, even the little trilling poet, though
he trilled never so faintly, and the somewhat wooden novelist, all
had tongues of their own, and certain modes of expression, which
might assist or injure the Palliser Coalition,--as the Duke's
Ministry was now called.
"Who is that man? I've seen him here before. The Duchess was talking
to him ever so long just now." The question was asked by Mr. Rattler
of Mr. Roby. About half-an-hour before this time Mr. Rattler had
essayed to get a few words with the Duchess, beginning with the
communication of some small political secret. But the Duchess did not
care much for the Rattlers attached to her husband's Government. They
were men whose services could be had for a certain payment,--and when
paid for were, the Duchess thought, at the Premier's command without
further trouble. Of course they came to the receptions, and were
entitled to a smile apiece as they entered. But they were entitled
to nothing more, and on this occasion Rattler had felt himself to be
snubbed. It did not occur to him to abuse the Duchess. The Duchess
was too necessary for abuse,--just at present. But any friend of the
Duchess,--any favourite for the moment,--was, of course, open to
remark.
"He is a man named Lopez," said Roby, "a friend of Happerton;--a very
clever fellow, they say."
"Did you ever see him anywhere else?"
"Well, yes;--I have met him at dinner."
"He was never in the House. What does he do?" Rattler was distressed
to think that any drone should have made its way into the hive of
working bees.
"Oh;--money, I fancy."
"He's not a partner in Hunky's, is he?"
"I fancy not. I think I should have known if he was."
"She ought to remember that people make a use of coming here," said
Rattler. She was, of course, the Duchess. "It's not like a private
house. And whatever influence outsiders get by coming, so much she
loses. Somebody ought to explain that to her."
"I don't think you or I could do that," replied Mr. Roby.
"I'll tell the Duke in a minute," said Rattler. Perhaps he thought
he could tell the Duke, but we may be allowed to doubt whether his
prowess would not have fallen below the necessary pitch when he met
the Duke's eye.
Lopez was there for the third time, about the middle of June, and had
certainly contrived to make himself personally known to the Duchess.
There had been a deputation from the City to the Prime Minister
asking for a subsidised mail, via San Francisco, to Japan, and Lopez,
though he had no interest in Japan, had contrived to be one of the
number. He had contrived also, as the deputation was departing, to
say a word on his own account to the Minister, and had ingratiated
himself. The Duke had remembered him, and had suggested that he
should have a card. And now he was among the flowers and the
greatness, the beauty, the politics, and the fashion of the Duchess's
gatherings for the third time. "It is very well done,--very well,
indeed," said Mr. Boffin to him. Lopez had been dining with Mr. and
Mrs. Boffin, and had now again encountered his late host and hostess.
Mr. Boffin was a gentleman who had belonged to the late Ministry, but
had somewhat out-Heroded Herod in his Conservatism, so as to have
been considered to be unfit for the Coalition. Of course, he was
proud of his own staunchness, and a little inclined to criticise the
lax principles of men who, for the sake of carrying on her Majesty's
Government, could be Conservatives one day and Liberals the next. He
was a laborious, honest man,--but hardly of calibre sufficient not
to regret his own honesty in such an emergency as the present. It is
easy for most of us to keep our hands from picking and stealing when
picking and stealing plainly lead to prison diet and prison garments.
But when silks and satins come of it, and with the silks and satins
general respect, the net result of honesty does not seem to be
so secure. Whence will come the reward, and when? On whom the
punishment, and where? A man will not, surely, be damned for
belonging to a Coalition Ministry! Boffin was a little puzzled as he
thought on all this, but in the meantime was very proud of his own
consistency.
"I think it is so lovely!" said Mrs. Boffin. "You look down through
an Elysium of rhododendrons into a Paradise of mirrors. I don't think
there was ever anything like it in London before."
"I don't know that we ever had anybody at the same time rich enough
to do this kind of thing as it is done now," said Boffin, "and
powerful enough to get such people together. If the country can be
ruled by flowers and looking-glasses, of course it is very well."
"Flowers and looking-glasses won't prevent the country being ruled
well," said Lopez.
"I'm not so sure of that," continued Boffin. "We all know what bread
and the games came to in Rome."
"What did they come to?" asked Mrs. Boffin.
"To a man burning Rome, my dear, for his amusement, dressed in a
satin petticoat and a wreath of roses."
"I don't think the Duke will dress himself like that," said Mrs.
Boffin.
"And I don't think," said Lopez, "that the graceful expenditure of
wealth in a rich man's house has any tendency to demoralise the
people."
"The attempt here," said Boffin severely, "is to demoralise the
rulers of the people. I am glad to have come once to see how the
thing is done; but as an independent member of the House of Commons I
should not wish to be known to frequent the saloon of the Duchess."
Then Mr. Boffin took away Mrs. Boffin, much to that lady's regret.
"This is fairy land," said Lopez to the Duchess, as he left the room.
"Come and be a fairy then," she answered, very graciously. "We are
always on the wing about this hour on Wednesday night." The words
contained a general invitation for the season, and were esteemed by
Lopez as an indication of great favour. It must be acknowledged of
the Duchess that she was prone to make favourites, perhaps without
adequate cause; though it must be conceded to her that she rarely
altogether threw off from her any one whom she had once taken to her
good graces. It must also be confessed that when she had allowed
herself to hate either a man or a woman, she generally hated on
to the end. No Paradise could be too charming for her friends; no
Pandemonium too frightful for her enemies. In reference to Mr. Lopez
she would have said, if interrogated, that she had taken the man up
in obedience to her husband. But in truth she had liked the look and
the voice of the man. Her husband before now had recommended men to
her notice and kindness, whom at the first trial she had rejected
from her good-will, and whom she had continued to reject ever
afterwards, let her husband's urgency be what it might.
Another old friend, of whom former chronicles were not silent, was at
the Duchess's that night, and there came across Mrs. Finn. This was
Barrington Erle, a politician of long standing, who was still looked
upon by many as a young man, because he had always been known as a
young man, and because he had never done anything to compromise his
position in that respect. He had not married, or settled himself down
in a house of his own, or become subject to gout, or given up being
careful about the fitting of his clothes. No doubt the grey hairs
were getting the better of the black hairs, both on his head and
face, and marks of coming crows' feet were to be seen if you looked
close at him, and he had become careful about his great-coat and
umbrella. He was in truth much nearer fifty than forty;--nevertheless
he was felt in the House and among Cabinet Ministers, and among the
wives of members and Cabinet Ministers, to be a young man still. And
when he was invited to become Secretary for Ireland it was generally
felt that he was too young for the place. He declined it, however;
and when he went to the Post-office, the gentlemen there all felt
that they had had a boy put over them. Phineas Finn, who had become
Secretary for Ireland, was in truth ten years his junior. But Phineas
Finn had been twice married, and had gone through other phases of
life, such as make a man old. "How does Phineas like it?" Erle asked.
Phineas Finn and Barrington Erle had gone through some political
struggles together, and had been very intimate.
"I hope not very much," said the lady.
"Why so? Because he's away so much?"
"No;--not that. I should not grudge his absence if the work satisfied
him. But I know him so well. The more he takes to it now,--the more
sanguine he is as to some special thing to be done,--the more bitter
will be the disappointment when he is disappointed. For there never
really is anything special to be done;--is there, Mr. Erle?"
"I think there is always a little too much zeal about Finn."
"Of course there is. And then with zeal there always goes a thin
skin,--and unjustifiable expectations, and biting despair, and
contempt of others, and all the elements of unhappiness."
"That is a sad programme for your husband."
"He has recuperative faculties which bring him round at last:--but I
really doubt whether he was made for a politician in this country.
You remember Lord Brock?"
"Dear old Brock;--of course I do. How should I not, if you remember
him?"
"Young men are boys at college, rowing in boats, when women have been
ever so long out in the world. He was the very model of an English
statesman. He loved his country dearly, and wished her to be, as he
believed her to be, first among nations. But he had no belief in
perpetuating her greatness by any grand improvements. Let things take
their way naturally,--with a slight direction hither or thither as
things might require. That was his method of ruling. He believed in
men rather than measures. As long as he had loyalty around him, he
could be personally happy, and quite confident as to the country. He
never broke his heart because he could not carry this or that reform.
What would have hurt him would have been to be worsted in personal
conflict. But he could always hold his own, and he was always
happy. Your man with a thin skin, a vehement ambition, a scrupulous
conscience, and a sanguine desire for rapid improvement, is never a
happy, and seldom a fortunate politician."
"Mrs. Finn, you understand it all better than any one else that I
ever knew."
"I have been watching it a long time, and of course very closely
since I have been married."
"But you have an eye trained to see it all. What a useful member you
would have been in a government!"
"But I should never have had patience to sit all night upon that
bench in the House of Commons. How men can do it! They mustn't read.
They can't think because of the speaking. It doesn't do for them to
talk. I don't believe they ever listen. It isn't in human nature to
listen hour after hour to such platitudes. I believe they fall into a
habit of half-wakeful sleeping, which carries them through the hours;
but even that can't be pleasant. I look upon the Treasury Bench in
July as a sort of casual-ward which we know to be necessary, but is
almost too horrid to be contemplated."
"Men do get bread and skilly there certainly; but, Mrs. Finn, we can
go into the library and smoking-room."
"Oh, yes;--and a clerk in an office can read the newspapers instead
of doing his duty. But there is a certain surveillance exercised, and
a certain quantity of work exacted. I have met Lords of the Treasury
out at dinner on Mondays and Thursdays, but we all regard them as
boys who have shirked out of school. I think upon the whole, Mr.
Erle, we women have the best of it."
"I don't suppose you will go in for your 'rights'."
"Not by Act of Parliament, or by platform meeting. I have a great
idea of a woman's rights; but that is the way, I think, to throw them
away. What do you think of the Duchess's evenings?"
"Lady Glen is in her way as great a woman as you are;--perhaps
greater, because nothing ever stops her."
"Whereas I have scruples."
"Her Grace has none. She has feelings and convictions which keep her
straight, but no scruples. Look at her now talking to Sir Orlando
Drought, a man whom she both hates and despises. I am sure she is
looking forward to some happy time in which the Duke may pitch
Sir Orlando overboard, and rule supreme, with me or some other
subordinate leading the House of Commons simply as lieutenant. Such a
time will never come, but that is her idea. But she is talking to Sir
Orlando now as if she were pouring her full confidence into his ear,
and Sir Orlando is believing her. Sir Orlando is in a seventh heaven,
and she is measuring his credulity inch by inch."
"She makes the place very bright."
"And is spending an enormous deal of money," said Barrington Erle.
"What does it matter?"
"Well, no;--if the Duke likes it. I had an idea that the Duke would
not like the display of the thing. There he is. Do you see him in the
corner with his brother duke? He doesn't look as if he were happy;
does he? No one would think he was the master of everything here. He
has got himself hidden almost behind the screen. I'm sure he doesn't
like it."
"He tries to like whatever she likes," said Mrs. Finn.
As her husband was away in Ireland, Mrs. Finn was staying in the
house in Carlton Gardens. The Duchess at present required so much of
her time that this was found to be convenient. When, therefore, the
guests on the present occasion had all gone, the Duchess and Mrs.
Finn were left together. "Did you ever see anything so hopeless as he
is?" said the Duchess.
"Who is hopeless?"
"Heavens and earth! Plantagenet;--who else? Is there another man in
the world would come into his own house, among his own guests, and
speak only to one person? And, then, think of it! Popularity is
the staff on which alone Ministers can lean in this country with
security."
"Political but not social popularity."
"You know as well as I do that the two go together. We've seen enough
of that even in our day. What broke up Mr. Gresham's Ministry? If
he had stayed away people might have thought that he was reading
blue-books, or calculating coinage, or preparing a speech. That would
have been much better. But he comes in and sits for half-an-hour
whispering to another duke! I hate dukes!"
"He talks to the Duke of St. Bungay because there is no one he trusts
so much. A few years ago it would have been Mr. Mildmay."
"My dear," said the Duchess angrily, "you treat me as though I were
a child. Of course I know why he chooses that old man out of all the
crowd. I don't suppose he does it from any stupid pride of rank.
I know very well what set of ideas govern him. But that isn't the
point. He has to reflect what others think of it, and to endeavour
to do what will please them. There was I telling tarradiddles by the
yard to that old oaf, Sir Orlando Drought, when a confidential word
from Plantagenet would have had ten times more effect. And why can't
he speak a word to the people's wives? They wouldn't bite him. He has
got to say a few words to you sometimes,--to whom it doesn't signify,
my dear--"
"I don't know about that."
"But he never speaks to another woman. He was here this evening
for exactly forty minutes, and he didn't open his lips to a female
creature. I watched him. How on earth am I to pull him through if he
goes on in that way? Yes, Locock, I'll go to bed, and I don't think
I'll get up for a week."