Sir Orlando Retires
"He is a horrid man. He came here and quarrelled with the other man
in my house, or rather down at Richmond, and made a fool of himself,
and then quarrelled with his wife and took her away. What fools, what
asses, what horrors men are! How impossible it is to be civil and
gracious without getting into a mess. I am tempted to say that I will
never know anybody any more." Such was the complaint made by the
Duchess to Mrs. Finn a few days after the Richmond party, and from
this it was evident that the latter affair had not passed without
notice.
"Did he make a noise about it?" asked Mrs. Finn.
"There was not a row, but there was enough of a quarrel to be visible
and audible. He walked about and talked loud to the poor woman. Of
course it was my own fault. But the man was clever and I liked him,
and people told me that he was of the right sort."
"The Duke heard of it?"
"No;--and I hope he won't. It would be such a triumph for him, after
all the fuss at Silverbridge. But he never hears of anything. If two
men fought a duel in his own dining-room he would be the last man in
London to know it."
"Then say nothing about it, and don't ask the men any more."
"You may be sure I won't ask the man with the wife any more. The
other man is in Parliament and can't be thrown over so easily--and it
wasn't his fault. But I'm getting so sick of it all! I'm told that
Sir Orlando has complained to Plantagenet that he isn't asked to the
dinners."
"Impossible!"
"Don't you mention it, but he has. Warburton has told me so."
Warburton was one of the Duke's private secretaries.
"What did the Duke say?"
"I don't quite know. Warburton is one of my familiars, but I didn't
like to ask him for more than he chose to tell me. Warburton
suggested that I should invite Sir Orlando at once; but there I was
obdurate. Of course, if Plantagenet tells me I'll ask the man to come
every day of the week;--but it is one of those things that I shall
need to be told directly. My idea is, you know, that they had better
get rid of Sir Orlando,--and that if Sir Orlando chooses to kick over
the traces, he may be turned loose without any danger. One has little
birds that give one all manner of information, and one little bird
has told me that Sir Orlando and Mr. Roby don't speak. Mr. Roby is
not very much himself, but he is a good straw to show which way the
wind blows. Plantagenet certainly sent no message about Sir Orlando,
and I'm afraid the gentleman must look for his dinners elsewhere."
The Duke had in truth expressed himself very plainly to Mr.
Warburton; but with so much indiscreet fretfulness that the discreet
private secretary had not told it even to the Duchess. "This kind
of thing argues a want of cordiality that may be fatal to us," Sir
Orlando had said somewhat grandiloquently to the Duke, and the Duke
had made--almost no reply. "I suppose I may ask my own guests in
my own house," he had said afterwards to Mr. Warburton, "though in
public life I am everybody's slave." Mr. Warburton, anxious of course
to maintain the unity of the party, had told the Duchess so much as
would, he thought, induce her to give way; but he had not repeated
the Duke's own observations, which were, Mr. Warburton thought,
hostile to the interests of the party. The Duchess had only smiled
and made a little grimace, with which the private secretary was
already well acquainted. And Sir Orlando received no invitation.
In those days Sir Orlando was unhappy and irritable, doubtful of
further success as regarded the Coalition, but quite resolved to pull
the house down about the ears of the inhabitants rather than to leave
it with gentle resignation. To him it seemed to be impossible that
the Coalition should exist without him. He too had had moments of
high-vaulting ambition, in which he had almost felt himself to be the
great man required by the country, the one ruler who could gather
together in his grasp the reins of government and drive the State
coach single-handed safe through its difficulties for the next
half-dozen years. There are men who cannot conceive of themselves
that anything should be difficult for them, and again others who
cannot bring themselves so to trust themselves as to think that they
can ever achieve anything great. Samples of each sort from time to
time rise high in political life, carried thither apparently by
Epicurean concourse of atoms; and it often happens that the more
confident samples are by no means the most capable. The concourse of
atoms had carried Sir Orlando so high that he could not but think
himself intended for something higher. But the Duke, who had really
been wafted to the very top, had always doubted himself, believing
himself capable of doing some one thing by dint of industry, but with
no further confidence in his own powers. Sir Orlando had perceived
something of his Leader's weakness, and had thought that he might
profit by it. He was not only a distinguished member of the Cabinet,
but even the recognised Leader of the House of Commons. He looked out
the facts and found that for five-and-twenty years out of the last
thirty the Leader of the House of Commons had been the Head of the
Government. He felt that he would be mean not to stretch out his hand
and take the prize destined for him. The Duke was a poor timid man
who had very little to say for himself. Then came the little episode
about the dinners. It had become very evident to all the world that
the Duchess of Omnium had cut Sir Orlando Drought,--that the Prime
Minister's wife, who was great in hospitality, would not admit the
First Lord of the Admiralty into her house. The doings at Gatherum
Castle, and in Carlton Terrace, and at the Horns were watched much
too closely by the world at large to allow such omissions to be
otherwise than conspicuous. Since the commencement of the Session
there had been a series of articles in the "People's Banner"
violently abusive of the Prime Minister, and in one or two of these
the indecency of these exclusions had been exposed with great
strength of language. And the Editor of the "People's Banner" had
discovered that Sir Orlando Drought was the one man in Parliament fit
to rule the nation. Till Parliament should discover this fact, or at
least acknowledge it,--the discovery having been happily made by the
"People's Banner,"--the Editor of the "People's Banner" thought that
there could be no hope for the country. Sir Orlando of course saw
all these articles, and in his very heart believed that a man had
at length sprung up among them fit to conduct a newspaper. The Duke
also unfortunately saw the "People's Banner." In his old happy days
two papers a day, one in the morning and the other before dinner,
sufficed to tell him all that he wanted to know. Now he felt it
necessary to see almost every rag that was published. And he would
skim through them all till he found the lines in which he himself
was maligned, and then, with sore heart and irritated nerves, would
pause over every contumelious word. He would have bitten his tongue
out rather than have spoken of the tortures he endured, but he was
tortured and did endure. He knew the cause of the bitter personal
attacks made on him,--of the abuse with which he was loaded, and of
the ridicule, infinitely more painful to him, with which his wife's
social splendour was bespattered. He remembered well the attempt
which Mr. Quintus Slide had made to obtain an entrance into his
house, and his own scornful rejection of that gentleman's overtures.
He knew,--no man knew better,--the real value of that able Editor's
opinion. And yet every word of it was gall and wormwood to him. In
every paragraph there was a scourge which hit him on the raw and
opened wounds which he could show to no kind surgeon, for which he
could find solace in no friendly treatment. Not even to his wife
could he condescend to say that Mr. Quintus Slide had hurt him.
Then Sir Orlando had come himself. Sir Orlando explained himself
gracefully. He of course could understand that no gentleman
had a right to complain because he was not asked to another
gentleman's house. But the affairs of the country were above private
considerations; and he, actuated by public feelings, would condescend
to do that which under other circumstances would be impossible. The
public press, which was ever vigilant, had suggested that there was
some official estrangement, because he, Sir Orlando, had not been
included in the list of guests invited by his Grace. Did not his
Grace think that there might be seeds of,--he would not quite say
decay for the Coalition, in such a state of things? The Duke paused a
moment, and then said that he thought there were no such seeds. Sir
Orlando bowed haughtily and withdrew--swearing at the moment that the
Coalition should be made to fall into a thousand shivers. This had
all taken place a fortnight before the party at the Horns from which
poor Mrs. Lopez had been withdrawn so hastily.
But Sir Orlando, when he commenced the proceedings consequent on
this resolution, did not find all that support which he had expected.
Unfortunately there had been an uncomfortable word or two between him
and Mr. Roby, the political Secretary at the Admiralty. Mr. Roby had
never quite seconded Sir Orlando's ardour in that matter of the four
ships, and Sir Orlando in his pride of place had ventured to snub Mr.
Roby. Now Mr. Roby could bear a snubbing perhaps as well as any other
official subordinate,--but he was one who would study the question
and assure himself that it was, or that it was not, worth his while
to bear it. He, too, had discussed with his friends the condition
of the Coalition, and had come to conclusions rather adverse to Sir
Orlando than otherwise. When, therefore, the First Secretary sounded
him as to the expediency of some step in the direction of a firmer
political combination than that at present existing,--by which of
course was meant the dethronement of the present Prime Minister,--Mr.
Roby had snubbed him! Then there had been slight official
criminations and recriminations, till a state of things had come to
pass which almost justified the statement made by the Duchess to Mrs.
Finn.
The Coalition had many component parts, some coalescing without
difficulty, but with no special cordiality. Such was the condition of
things between the very conservative Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland and
his somewhat radical Chief Secretary, Mr. Finn,--between probably the
larger number of those who were contented with the duties of their
own offices and the pleasures and profits arising therefrom. Some
by this time hardly coalesced at all, as was the case with Sir
Gregory Grogram and Sir Timothy Beeswax, the Attorney-General and
Solicitor-General;--and was especially the case with the Prime
Minister and Sir Orlando Drought. But in one or two happy cases the
Coalition was sincere and loyal,--and in no case was this more so
than with regard to Mr. Rattler and Mr. Roby. Mr. Rattler and Mr.
Roby had throughout their long parliamentary lives belonged to
opposite parties, and had been accustomed to regard each other with
mutual jealousy and almost with mutual hatred. But now they had come
to see how equal, how alike, and how sympathetic were their tastes,
and how well each might help the other. As long as Mr. Rattler could
keep his old place at the Treasury,--and his ambition never stirred
him to aught higher,--he was quite contented that his old rival
should be happy at the Admiralty. And that old rival, when he looked
about him and felt his present comfort, when he remembered how
short-lived had been the good things which had hitherto come in his
way, and how little probable it was that long-lived good things
should be his when the Coalition was broken up, manfully determined
that loyalty to the present Head of the Government was his duty. He
had sat for too many years on the same bench with Sir Orlando to
believe much in his power of governing the country. Therefore, when
Sir Orlando dropped his hint Mr. Roby did not take it.
"I wonder whether it's true that Sir Orlando complained to the Duke
that he was not asked to dinner?" said Mr. Roby to Mr. Rattler.
"I should hardly think so. I can't fancy that he would have the
pluck," said Mr. Rattler. "The Duke isn't the easiest man in the
world to speak to about such a thing as that."
"It would be a monstrous thing for a man to do! But Drought's head is
quite turned. You can see that."
"We never thought very much about him, you know, on our side."
"It was what your side thought about him," rejoined Roby, "that put
him where he is now."
"It was the fate of accidents, Roby, which puts so many of us in our
places, and arranges our work for us, and makes us little men or big
men. There are other men besides Drought who have been tossed up in a
blanket till they don't know whether their heads or their heels are
highest."
"I quite believe in the Duke," said Mr. Roby, almost alarmed by the
suggestion which his new friend had seemed to make.
"So do I, Roby. He has not the obduracy of Lord Brock, nor the
ineffable manner of Mr. Mildmay, nor the brilliant intellect of Mr.
Gresham."
"Nor the picturesque imagination of Mr. Daubeny," said Mr. Roby,
feeling himself bound to support the character of his late chief.
"Nor his audacity," said Mr. Rattler. "But he has peculiar gifts
of his own, and gifts fitted for the peculiar combination of
circumstances, if he will only be content to use them. He is a just,
unambitious, intelligent man, in whom after a while the country
would come to have implicit confidence. But he is thin-skinned and
ungenial."
"I have got into his boat," said Roby, enthusiastically, "and he will
find that I shall be true to him."
"There is no better boat to be in at present," said the slightly
sarcastic Rattler. "As to the Drought pinnace, it will be more
difficult to get it afloat than the four ships themselves. To tell
the truth honestly, Roby, we have to rid ourselves of Sir Orlando. I
have a great regard for the man."
"I can't say I ever liked him," said Roby.
"I don't talk about liking,--but he has achieved success, and is to
be regarded. Now he has lost his head, and he is bound to get a fall.
The question is,--who shall fall with him?"
"I do not feel myself at all bound to sacrifice myself."
"I don't know who does. Sir Timothy Beeswax, I suppose, will resent
the injury done to him. But I can hardly think that a strong
government can be formed by Sir Orlando Drought and Sir Timothy
Beeswax. Any secession is a weakness,--of course; but I think he may
survive it." And so Mr. Rattler and Mr. Roby made up their minds that
the First Lord of the Admiralty might be thrown overboard without
much danger to the Queen's ship.
Sir Orlando, however, was quite in earnest. The man had spirit enough
to feel that no alternative was left to him after he had condescended
to suggest that he should be asked to dinner and had been refused. He
tried Mr. Roby, and found that Mr. Roby was a mean fellow, wedded,
as he told himself, to his salary. Then he sounded Lord Drummond,
urging various reasons. The country was not safe without more ships.
Mr. Monk was altogether wrong about revenue. Mr. Finn's ideas about
Ireland were revolutionary. But Lord Drummond thought that, upon the
whole, the present Ministry served the country well, and considered
himself bound to adhere to it. "He cannot bear the idea of being
out of power," said Sir Orlando to himself. He next said a word to
Sir Timothy; but Sir Timothy was not the man to be led by the nose
by Sir Orlando. Sir Timothy had his grievances and meant to have
his revenge, but he knew how to choose his own time. "The Duke's
not a bad fellow," said Sir Timothy,--"perhaps a little weak, but
well-meaning. I think we ought to stand by him a little longer. As
for Finn's Irish Bill, I haven't troubled myself about it." Then
Sir Orlando declared to himself that Sir Timothy was a coward, and
resolved that he would act alone.
About the middle of July he went to the Duke at the Treasury,
was closeted with him, and in a very long narration of his own
differences, difficulties, opinions, and grievances, explained to the
Duke that his conscience called upon him to resign. The Duke listened
and bowed his head, and with one or two very gently-uttered words
expressed his regret. Then Sir Orlando, in another long speech,
laid bare his bosom to the Chief whom he was leaving, declaring the
inexpressible sorrow with which he had found himself called upon to
take a step which he feared might be prejudicial to the political
status of a man whom he honoured so much as he did the Duke of
Omnium. Then the Duke bowed again, but said nothing. The man had been
guilty of the impropriety of questioning the way in which the Duke's
private hospitality was exercised, and the Duke could not bring
himself to be genially civil to such an offender. Sir Orlando went on
to say that he would of course explain his views in the Cabinet, but
that he had thought it right to make them known to the Duke as soon
as they were formed. "The best friends must part, Duke," he said as
he took his leave. "I hope not, Sir Orlando; I hope not," said the
Duke. But Sir Orlando had been too full of himself and of the words
he was to speak, and of the thing he was about to do, to understand
either the Duke's words or his silence.
And so Sir Orlando resigned, and thus supplied the only morsel of
political interest which the Session produced. "Take no more notice
of him than if your footman was going," had been the advice of the
old Duke. Of course there was a Cabinet meeting on the occasion, but
even there the commotion was very slight, as every member knew before
entering the room what it was that Sir Orlando intended to do. Lord
Drummond said that the step was one to be much lamented. "Very much,
indeed," said the Duke of St. Bungay. His words themselves were false
and hypocritical, but the tone of his voice took away all the deceit.
"I am afraid," said the Prime Minister, "from what Sir Orlando has
said to me privately, that we cannot hope that he will change his
mind." "That I certainly cannot do," said Sir Orlando, with all the
dignified courage of a modern martyr.
On the next morning the papers were full of the political fact, and
were blessed with a subject on which they could excercise their
prophetical sagacity. The remarks made were generally favourable to
the Government. Three or four of the morning papers were of opinion
that though Sir Orlando had been a strong man, and a good public
servant, the Ministry might exist without him. But the "People's
Banner" was able to expound to the people at large that the only
grain of salt by which the Ministry had been kept from putrefaction
had been now cast out, and that mortification, death, and corruption,
must ensue. It was one of Mr. Quintus Slide's greatest efforts.