On Deportment
Frank Tregear had come up to town at the end of February. He remained
in London, with an understanding that he was not to see Lady Mary
again till the Easter holidays. He was then to pay a visit to
Matching, and to enter in, it may be presumed, on the full fruition
of his advantages as accepted suitor. All this had been arranged with
a good deal of precision,--as though there had still been a hope left
that Lady Mary might change her mind. Of course there was no such
hope. When the Duke asked the young man to dine with him, when he
invited him to drink that memorable glass of wine, when the young
man was allowed, in the presence of the Boncassens, to sit next Lady
Mary, it was of course settled. But the father probably found some
relief in yielding by slow degrees. "I would rather that there
should be no correspondence till then," he had said both to Tregear
and to his daughter. And they had promised there should be no
correspondence. At Easter they would meet. After Easter Mary was to
come up to London to be present at her brother's wedding, to which
also Tregear had been formally invited; and it was hoped that then
something might be settled as to their own marriage. Tregear, with
the surgeon's permission, took his seat in Parliament. He was
introduced by two leading Members on the Conservative side, but
immediately afterwards found himself seated next to his friend
Silverbridge on the top bench behind the ministers. The House was
very full, as there was a feverish report abroad that Sir Timothy
Beeswax intended to make a statement. No one quite knew what the
statement was to be; but every politician in the House and out of
it thought that he knew that the statement would be a bid for
higher power on the part of Sir Timothy himself. If there had been
dissensions in the Cabinet, the secret of them had been well kept.
To Tregear who was not as yet familiar with the House there was no
special appearance of activity; but Silverbridge could see that
there was more than wonted animation. That the Treasury bench should
be full at this time was a thing of custom. A whole broadside of
questions would be fired off, one after another, like a rattle of
musketry down the ranks, when as nearly as possible the report of
each gun is made to follow close upon that of the gun before,--with
this exception, that in such case each little sound is intended to be
as like as possible to the preceding; whereas with the rattle of the
questions and answers, each question and each answer becomes a little
more authoritative and less courteous than the last. The Treasury
bench was ready for its usual responsive firing, as the questioners
were of course in their places. The opposition front bench was also
crowded, and those behind were nearly equally full. There were many
Peers in the gallery, and a general feeling of sensation prevailed.
All this Silverbridge had been long enough in the House to
appreciate;--but to Tregear the House was simply the House.
"It's odd enough we should have a row the very first day you come,"
said Silverbridge.
"You think there will be a row?"
"Beeswax has something special to say. He's not here yet, you see.
They've left about six inches for him there between Roper and Sir
Orlando. You'll have the privilege of looking just down on the top of
his head when he does come. I shan't stay much longer after that."
"Where are you going?"
"I don't mean to-day. But I should not have been here now,--in this
very place I mean,--but I want to stick to you just at first. I shall
move down below the gangway; and not improbably creep over to the
other side before long."
"You don't mean it?"
"I think I shall. I begin to feel I've made a mistake."
"In coming to this side at all?"
"I think I have. After all it is not very important."
"What is not important? I think it very important."
"Perhaps it may be to you, and perhaps you may be able to keep it
up. But the more I think of it the less excuse I seem to have for
deserting the old ways of the family. What is there in those fellows
down there to make a fellow feel that he ought to bind himself to
them neck and heels?"
"Their principles."
"Yes, their principles! I believe I have some vague idea as to
supporting property and land and all that kind of thing. I don't know
that anybody wants to attack anything."
"Somebody soon would want to attack it if there were no defenders."
"I suppose there is an outside power,--the people, or public opinion,
or whatever they choose to call it. And the country will have to
go very much as that outside power chooses. Here, in Parliament,
everybody will be as Conservative as the outside will let them. I
don't think it matters on which side you sit;--but it does matter
that you shouldn't have to act with those who go against the grain
with you."
"I never heard a worse political argument in my life."
"I dare say not. However, here's Sir Timothy. When he looks in that
way, all buckram, deportment, and solemnity, I know he's going to
pitch into somebody."
At this moment the Leader of the House came in from behind the
Speaker's chair and took his place between Mr. Roper and Sir Orlando
Drought. Silverbridge had been right in saying that Sir Timothy's air
was solemn. When a man has to declare a solemn purpose on a solemn
occasion in a solemn place, it is needful that he should be solemn
himself. And though the solemnity which befits a man best will be
that which the importance of the moment may produce, without thought
given by himself to his own outward person, still, who is there
can refrain himself from some attempt? Who can boast, who that has
been versed in the ways and duties of high places, that he has kept
himself free from all study of grace, of feature, of attitude, of
gait--or even of dress? For most of our bishops, for most of our
judges, of our statesmen, our orators, our generals, for many even of
our doctors and our parsons, even our attorneys, our tax-gatherers,
and certainly our butlers and our coachmen, Mr. Turveydrop, the great
professor of deportment, has done much. But there should always be
the art to underlie and protect the art;--the art that can hide the
art. The really clever archbishop,--the really potent chief justice,
the man who, as a politician, will succeed in becoming a king of men,
should know how to carry his buckram without showing it. It was in
this that Sir Timothy perhaps failed a little. There are men who look
as though they were born to wear blue ribbons. It has come, probably,
from study, but it seems to be natural. Sir Timothy did not impose on
those who looked at him as do these men. You could see a little of
the paint, you could hear the crumple of the starch and the padding;
you could trace something of uneasiness in the would-be composed
grandeur of the brow. "Turveydrop!" the spectator would say to
himself. But after all it may be a question whether a man be open to
reproach for not doing that well which the greatest among us,--if we
could find one great enough,--would not do at all.
For I think we must hold that true personal dignity should be
achieved,--must, if it be quite true, have been achieved,--without
any personal effort. Though it be evinced, in part, by the carriage
of the body, that carriage should be the fruit of the operation of
the mind. Even when it be assisted by external garniture such as
special clothes, and wigs, and ornaments, such garniture should have
been prescribed by the sovereign or by custom, and should not have
been selected by the wearer. In regard to speech a man may study all
that which may make him suasive, but if he go beyond that he will
trench on those histrionic efforts which he will know to be wrong
because he will be ashamed to acknowledge them. It is good to be
beautiful, but it should come of God and not of the hairdresser. And
personal dignity is a great possession; but a man should struggle for
it no more than he would for beauty. Many, however, do struggle for
it, and with such success that, though they do not achieve quite the
real thing, still they get something on which they can bolster
themselves up and be mighty.
Others, older men than Silverbridge, saw as much as did our young
friend, but they were more complaisant and more reasonable. They,
too, heard the crackle of the buckram, and were aware that the last
touch of awe had come upon that brow just as its owner was emerging
from the shadow of the Speaker's chair;--but to them it was a thing
of course. A real Cæsar is not to be found every day, nor can we
always have a Pitt to control our debates. That kind of thing, that
last touch has its effect. Of course it is all paint,--but how would
the poor girl look before the gaslights if there were no paint? The
House of Commons likes a little deportment on occasions. If a special
man looks bigger than you, you can console yourself by reflecting
that he also looks bigger than your fellows. Sir Timothy probably
knew what he was about, and did himself on the whole more good than
harm by his little tricks.
As soon as Sir Timothy had taken his seat, Mr. Rattler got up
from the opposition bench to ask him some question on a matter of
finance. The brewers were anxious about publican licences. Could the
Chancellor of the Exchequer say a word on the matter? Notice had of
course been given, and the questioner had stated a quarter of an hour
previously that he would postpone his query till the Chancellor of
the Exchequer was in the House.
Sir Timothy rose from his seat, and in his blandest manner began by
apologising for his late appearance. He was sorry that he had been
prevented by public business from being in his place to answer the
honourable gentleman's question in its proper turn. And even now,
he feared that he must decline to give any answer which could be
supposed to be satisfactory. It would probably be his duty to make a
statement to the House on the following day,--a statement which he
was not quite prepared to make at the present moment. But in the
existing state of things he was unwilling to make any reply to
any question by which he might seem to bind the government to any
opinion. Then he sat down. And rising again not long afterwards, when
the House had gone through certain formal duties, he moved that it
should be adjourned till the next day. Then all the members trooped
out, and with the others Tregear and Lord Silverbridge. "So that is
the end of your first day of Parliament," said Silverbridge.
"What does it all mean?"
"Let us go to the Carlton and hear what the fellows are saying."
On that evening both the young men dined at Mr. Boncassen's house.
Though Tregear had been cautioned not to write to Lady Mary,
and though he was not to see her before Easter, still it was so
completely understood that he was about to become her husband, that
he was entertained in that capacity by all those who were concerned
in the family. "And so they will all go out," said Mr. Boncassen.
"That seems to be the general idea," said the expectant son-in-law.
"When two men want to be first and neither will give way, they can't
very well get on in the same boat together." Then he expatiated
angrily on the treachery of Sir Timothy, and Tregear in a more
moderate way joined in the same opinion.
"Upon my word, young men, I doubt whether you are right," said Mr.
Boncassen. "Whether it can be possible that a man should have risen
to such a position with so little patriotism as you attribute to our
friend, I will not pretend to say. I should think that in England
it was impossible. But of this I am sure, that the facility which
exists here for a minister or ministers to go out of office without
disturbance of the Crown, is a great blessing. You say the other
party will come in."
"That is most probable," said Silverbridge.
"With us the other party never comes in,--never has a chance of
coming in,--except once in four years, when the President is elected.
That one event binds us all for four years."
"But you do change your ministers," said Tregear.
"A secretary may quarrel with the President, or he may have the gout,
or be convicted of peculation."
"And yet you think yourselves more nearly free than we are."
"I am not so sure of that. We have had a pretty difficult task, that
of carrying on a government in a new country, which is nevertheless
more populous than almost any old country. The influxions are so
rapid, that every ten years the nature of the people is changed. It
isn't easy; and though I think on the whole we've done pretty well,
I am not going to boast that Washington is as yet the seat of a
political Paradise."