Phineas Finn Has a Book to Read
The sensation created by the man's death was by no means confined
to Manchester Square, but was very general in the metropolis, and,
indeed, throughout the country. As the catastrophe became the subject
of general conversation, many people learned that the Silverbridge
affair had not, in truth, had much to do with it. The man had killed
himself, as many other men have done before him, because he had run
through his money and had no chance left of redeeming himself. But to
the world at large, the disgrace brought upon him by the explanation
given in Parliament was the apparent cause of his self-immolation,
and there were not wanting those who felt and expressed a sympathy
for a man who could feel so acutely the effect of his own
wrong-doing. No doubt he had done wrong in asking the Duke for the
money. But the request, though wrong, might almost be justified.
There could be no doubt, these apologists said, that he had been
ill-treated between the Duke and the Duchess. No doubt Phineas Finn,
who was now described by some opponents as the Duke's creature, had
been able to make out a story in the Duke's favour. But all the
world knew what was the worth and what was the truth of ministerial
explanations! The Coalition was very strong; and even the question
in the House, which should have been hostile, had been asked in a
friendly spirit. In this way there came to be a party who spoke and
wrote of Ferdinand Lopez as though he had been a martyr.
Of course Mr. Quintus Slide was in the front rank of these accusers.
He may be said to have led the little army which made this matter
a pretext for a special attack upon the Ministry. Mr. Slide was
especially hostile to the Prime Minister, but he was not less hotly
the enemy of Phineas Finn. Against Phineas Finn he had old grudges,
which, however, age had never cooled. He could, therefore, write with
a most powerful pen when discussing the death of that unfortunate
man, the late candidate for Silverbridge, crushing his two foes in
the single grasp of his journalistic fist. Phineas had certainly
said some hard things against Lopez, though he had not mentioned
the man's name. He had congratulated the House that it had not been
contaminated by the presence of so base a creature, and he had said
that he would not pause to stigmatise the meanness of the application
for money which Lopez had made. Had Lopez continued to live and to
endure "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," no one would
have ventured to say that these words would have inflicted too severe
a punishment. But death wipes out many faults, and a self-inflicted
death caused by remorse will, in the minds of many, wash a blackamoor
almost white. Thus it came to pass that some heavy weapons were
hurled at Phineas Finn, but none so heavy as those hurled by Quintus
Slide. Should not this Irish knight, who was so ready with his
lance in the defence of the Prime Minister, asked Mr. Slide, have
remembered the past events of his own rather peculiar life? Had not
he, too, been poor, and driven in his poverty to rather questionable
straits? Had not he been abject in his petition for office,--and in
what degree were such petitions less disgraceful than a request for
money which had been hopelessly expended on an impossible object,
attempted at the instance of the great Croesus who, when asked to
pay it, had at once acknowledged the necessity of doing so? Could
not Mr. Finn remember that he himself had stood in danger of his
life before a British jury, and that, though he had been, no doubt
properly, acquitted of the crime imputed to him, circumstances had
come out against him during the trial which, if not as criminal, were
at any rate almost as disgraceful? Could he not have had some mercy
on a broken political adventurer who, in his aspirations for public
life, had shown none of that greed by which Mr. Phineas Finn had
been characterised in all the relations of life? As for the Prime
Minister, "We," as Mr. Quintus Slide always described himself,--"We
do not wish to add to the agony which the fate of Mr. Lopez must
have brought upon him. He has hounded that poor man to his death
in revenge for the trifling sum of money which he was called on to
pay for him. It may be that the first blame lay not with the Prime
Minister himself, but with the Prime Minister's wife. With that we
have nothing to do. The whole thing lies in a nutshell. The bare
mention of the name of her Grace the Duchess in Parliament would have
saved the Duke, at any rate as effectually as he has been saved by
the services of his man-of-all-work, Phineas Finn, and would have
saved him without driving poor Ferdinand Lopez to insanity. But
rather than do this he allowed his servant to make statements about
mysterious agents, which we are justified in stigmatizing as untrue,
and to throw the whole blame where but least of the blame was due. We
all know the result. It was found in those gory shreds and tatters
of a poor human being with which the Tenway Railway Station was
bespattered."
Of course such an article had considerable effect. It was apparent at
once that there was ample room for an action for libel against the
newspaper, on the part of Phineas Finn if not on that of the Duke.
But it was equally apparent that Mr. Quintus Slide must have been
very well aware of this when he wrote the article. Such an action,
even if successful, may bring with it to the man punished more of
good than of evil. Any pecuniary penalty might be more than recouped
by the largeness of the advertisement which such an action would
produce. Mr. Slide no doubt calculated that he would carry with him a
great body of public feeling by the mere fact that he had attacked a
Prime Minister and a Duke. If he could only get all the publicans in
London to take his paper because of his patriotic and bold conduct,
the fortune of the paper would be made. There is no better trade
than that of martyrdom, if the would-be martyr knows how far he may
judiciously go, and in what direction. All this Mr. Quintus Slide was
supposed to have considered very well.
And Phineas Finn knew that his enemy had also considered the nature
of the matters which he would have been able to drag into Court if
there should be a trial. Allusions, very strong allusions, had been
made to former periods of Mr. Finn's life. And though there was
but little, if anything, in the past circumstances of which he was
ashamed,--but little, if anything, which he thought would subject him
personally to the odium of good men, could they be made accurately
known in all their details,--it would, he was well aware, be
impossible that such accuracy should be achieved. And the story if
told inaccurately would not suit him. And then, there was a reason
against any public proceeding much stronger even than this. Whether
the telling of the story would or would not suit him, it certainly
would not suit others. As has been before remarked, there are former
chronicles respecting Phineas Finn, and in them may be found adequate
cause for this conviction on his part. To no outsider was this
history known better than to Mr. Quintus Slide, and therefore Mr.
Quintus Slide could dare almost to defy the law.
But not the less on this account were there many who told Phineas
that he ought to bring the action. Among these none were more eager
than his old friend Lord Chiltern, the Master of the Brake hounds,
a man who really loved Phineas, who also loved the abstract idea of
justice, and who could not endure the thought that a miscreant should
go unpunished. Hunting was over for the season in the Brake country,
and Lord Chiltern rushed up to London, having this object among
others of a very pressing nature on his mind. His saddler had to
be seen,--and threatened,--on a certain matter touching the horses'
backs. A draught of hounds were being sent down to a friend in
Scotland. And there was a Committee of Masters to sit on a moot
question concerning a neutral covert in the XXX country, of which
Committee he was one. But the desire to punish Slide was almost as
strong in his indignant mind as those other matters referring more
especially to the profession of his life. "Phineas," he said, "you
are bound to do it. If you will allow a fellow like that to say such
things of you, why, by heaven, any man may say anything of anybody."
Now Phineas could hardly explain to Lord Chiltern his objection to
the proposed action. A lady was closely concerned, and that lady was
Lord Chiltern's sister. "I certainly shall not," said Phineas.
"And why?"
"Just because he wishes me to do it. I should be falling into the
little pit that he has dug for me."
"He couldn't hurt you. What have you got to be afraid of? Ruat
coelum."
"There are certain angels, Chiltern, living up in that heaven which
you wish me to pull about our ears, as to whom, if all their heart
and all their wishes and all their doings could be known, nothing but
praise could be spoken; but who would still be dragged with soiled
wings through the dirt if this man were empowered to bring witness
after witness into court. My wife would be named. For aught I know,
your wife."
"By G----, he'd find himself wrong there."
"Leave a chimney-sweep alone when you see him, Chiltern. Should
he run against you, then remember that it is one of the necessary
penalties of clean linen that it is apt to be soiled."
"I'm d----d if I'd let him off."
"Yes you would, old fellow. When you come to see clearly what you
would gain and what you would lose, you would not meddle with him."
His wife was at first inclined to think that an action should be
taken, but she was more easily convinced than Lord Chiltern. "I had
not thought," she said, "of poor Lady Laura. But is it not horrible
that a man should be able to go on like that, and that there should
be no punishment?" In answer to this he only shrugged his shoulders.
But the greatest pressure came upon him from another source. He did
not in truth suffer much himself from what was said in the "People's
Banner." He had become used to the "People's Banner" and had found
out that in no relation of life was he less pleasantly situated
because of the maledictions heaped upon him in the columns of that
newspaper. His position in public life did not seem to be weakened by
them. His personal friends did not fall off because of them. Those
who loved him did not love him less. It had not been so with him
always, but now, at last, he was hardened against Mr. Quintus Slide.
But the poor Duke was by no means equally strong. This attack upon
him, this denunciation of his cruelty, this assurance that he had
caused the death of Ferdinand Lopez, was very grievous to him. It
was not that he really felt himself to be guilty of the man's blood,
but that any one should say that he was guilty. It was of no use to
point out to him that other newspapers had sufficiently vindicated
his conduct in that respect, that it was already publicly known
that Lopez had received payment for those election expenses from
Mr. Wharton before the application had been made to him, and that
therefore the man's dishonesty was patent to all the world. It was
equally futile to explain to him that the man's last act had been in
no degree caused by what had been said in Parliament, but had been
the result of his continued failures in life and final absolute ruin.
He fretted and fumed and was very wretched,--and at last expressed
his opinion that legal steps should be taken to punish the "People's
Banner." Now it had been already acknowledged, on the dictum of no
less a man than Sir Gregory Grogram, the Attorney-General, that the
action for libel, if taken at all, must be taken, not on the part of
the Prime Minister, but on that of Phineas Finn. Sir Timothy Beeswax
had indeed doubted, but it had come to be understood by all the
members of the Coalition that Sir Timothy Beeswax always did doubt
whatever was said by Sir Gregory Grogram. "The Duke thinks that
something should be done," said Mr. Warburton, the Duke's private
Secretary, to Phineas Finn.
"Not by me, I hope," said Phineas.
"Nobody else can do it. That is to say it must be done in your name.
Of course it would be a Government matter, as far as expense goes,
and all that."
"I am sorry the Duke should think so."
"I don't see that it could hurt you."
"I am sorry the Duke should think so," repeated Phineas,--"because
nothing can be done in my name. I have made up my mind about it.
I think the Duke is wrong in wishing it, and I believe that were
any action taken, we should only be playing into the hands of that
wretched fellow, Quintus Slide. I have long been conversant with
Mr. Quintus Slide, and have quite made up my mind that I will never
play upon his pipe. And you may tell the Duke that there are other
reasons. The man has referred to my past life, and in seeking to
justify those remarks he would be enabled to drag before the public
circumstances and stories, and perhaps persons, in a manner that I
personally should disregard, but which, for the sake of others, I am
bound to prevent. You will explain all this to the Duke?"
"I am afraid you will find the Duke very urgent."
"I must then express my great sorrow that I cannot oblige the Duke. I
trust I need hardly say that the Duke has no colleague more devoted
to his interest than I am. Were he to wish me to change my office, or
to abandon it, or to undertake any political duty within the compass
of my small powers, he would find me ready to obey his behests. But
in this matter others are concerned, and I cannot make my judgment
subordinate to his." The private Secretary looked very serious, and
simply said that he would do his best to explain these objections to
his Grace.
That the Duke would take his refusal in bad part Phineas felt nearly
certain. He had been a little surprised at the coldness of the
Minister's manner to him after the statement he had made in the
house, and had mentioned the matter to his wife. "You hardly know
him," she had said, "as well as I do."
"Certainly not. You ought to know him very intimately, and I have had
but little personal friendship with him. But it was a moment in which
the man might, for the moment, have been cordial."
"It was not a moment for his cordiality. The Duchess says that if you
want to get a really genial smile from him you must talk to him about
cork soles. I know exactly what she means. He loves to be simple, but
he does not know how to show people that he likes it. Lady Rosina
found him out by accident."
"Don't suppose that I am in the least aggrieved," he had said. And
now he spoke again to his wife in the same spirit. "Warburton clearly
thinks that he will be offended, and Warburton, I suppose, knows his
mind."
"I don't see why he should. I have been reading it longer, and I
still find it very difficult. Lady Glen has been at the work for the
last fifteen years, and sometimes owns that there are passages she
has not mastered yet. I fancy Mr. Warburton is afraid of him, and is
a little given to fancy that everybody should bow down to him. Now if
there is anything certain about the Duke it is this,--that he doesn't
want any one to bow down to him. He hates all bowing down."
"I don't think he loves those who oppose him."
"It is not the opposition he hates, but the cause in the man's mind
which may produce it. When Sir Orlando opposed him, and he thought
that Sir Orlando's opposition was founded on jealousy, then he
despised Sir Orlando. But had he believed in Sir Orlando's belief in
the new ships, he would have been capable of pressing Sir Orlando to
his bosom, although he might have been forced to oppose Sir Orlando's
ships in the Cabinet."
"He is a Sir Bayard to you," said Phineas, laughing.
"Rather a Don Quixote, whom I take to have been the better man of the
two. I'll tell you what he is, Phineas, and how he is better than
all the real knights of whom I have ever read in story. He is a man
altogether without guile, and entirely devoted to his country. Do not
quarrel with him, if you can help it."
Phineas had not the slightest desire to quarrel with his chief; but
he did think it to be not improbable that his chief would quarrel
with him. It was notorious to him as a member of the Cabinet,--as a
colleague living with other colleagues by whom the Prime Minister was
coddled, and especially as the husband of his wife, who lived almost
continually with the Prime Minister's wife,--that the Duke was cut
to the quick by the accusation that he had hounded Ferdinand Lopez
to his death. The Prime Minister had defended himself in the House
against the first charge by means of Phineas Finn, and now required
Phineas to defend him from the second charge in another way. This
he was obliged to refuse to do. And then the Minister's private
Secretary looked very grave, and left him with the impression that
the Duke would be much annoyed, if not offended. And already there
had grown up an idea that the Duke would have on the list of his
colleagues none who were personally disagreeable to himself. Though
he was by no means a strong Minister in regard to political measures,
or the proper dominion of his party, still men were afraid of him.
It was not that he would call upon them to resign, but that, if
aggrieved, he would resign himself. Sir Orlando Drought had rebelled
and had tried a fall with the Prime Minister,--and had greatly
failed. Phineas determined that if frowned upon he would resign,
but that he certainly would bring no action for libel against the
"People's Banner."
A week passed after he had seen Warburton before he by chance found
himself alone with the Prime Minister. This occurred at the house
in Carlton Gardens, at which he was a frequent visitor,--and could
hardly have ceased to be so without being noticed, as his wife spent
half her time there. It was evident to him then that the occasion was
sought for by the Duke. "Mr. Finn," said the Duke, "I wanted to have
a word or two with you."
"Certainly," said Phineas, arresting his steps.
"Warburton spoke to you about that--that newspaper."
"Yes, Duke. He seemed to think that there should be an action for
libel."
"I thought so too. It was very bad, you know."
"Yes;--it was bad. I have known the 'People's Banner' for some time,
and it is always bad."
"No doubt;--no doubt. It is bad, very bad. Is it not sad that there
should be such dishonesty, and that nothing can be done to stop it?
Warburton says that you won't hear of an action in your name."
"There are reasons, Duke."
"No doubt;--no doubt. Well;--there's an end of it. I own I think the
man should be punished. I am not often vindictive, but I think that
he should be punished. However, I suppose it cannot be."
"I don't see the way."
"So be it. So be it. It must be entirely for you to judge. Are you
not longing to get into the country, Mr. Finn?"
"Hardly yet," said Phineas, surprised. "It's only June, and we have
two months more of it. What is the use of longing yet?"
"Two months more!" said the Duke. "Two months certainly. But even two
months will come to an end. We go down to Matching quietly,--very
quietly,--when the time does come. You must promise that you'll come
with us. Eh? I make a point of it, Mr. Finn."
Phineas did promise, and thought that he had succeeded in mastering
one of the difficult passages in that book.