THE PRIME MINISTER IS HARD PRESSED.
It can never be a very easy thing to form a Ministry. The one chosen
chief is readily selected. Circumstances, indeed, have probably left
no choice in the matter. Every man in the country who has at all
turned his thoughts that way knows very well who will be the next
Prime Minister when it comes to pass that a change is imminent.
In these days the occupant of the throne can have no difficulty.
Mr. Gresham recommends Her Majesty to send for Mr. Daubeny, or Mr.
Daubeny for Mr. Gresham,--as some ten or a dozen years since Mr.
Mildmay told her to send for Lord de Terrier, or Lord de Terrier
for Mr. Mildmay. The Prime Minister is elected by the nation, but
the nation, except in rare cases, cannot go below that in arranging
details, and the man for whom the Queen sends is burdened with the
necessity of selecting his colleagues. It may be,--probably must
always be the case,--that this, that, and the other colleagues are
clearly indicated to his mind, but then each of these colleagues
may want his own inferior coadjutors, and so the difficulty begins,
increases, and at length culminates. On the present occasion it was
known at the end of a week that Mr. Gresham had not filled all his
offices, and that there were difficulties. It was announced that the
Duke of St. Bungay could not quite agree on certain points with Mr.
Gresham, and that the Duke of Omnium would do nothing without the
other Duke. The Duke of St. Bungay was very powerful, as there were
three or four of the old adherents of Mr. Mildmay who would join
no Government unless he was with them. Sir Harry Coldfoot and Lord
Plinlimmon would not accept office without the Duke. The Duke was
essential, and now, though the Duke's character was essentially
that of a practical man who never raised unnecessary trouble, men
said that the Duke was at the bottom of it all. The Duke did not
approve of Mr. Bonteen. Mr. Gresham, so it was said, insisted on Mr.
Bonteen,--appealing to the other Duke. But that other Duke, our own
special Duke, Planty Pall that was, instead of standing up for Mr.
Bonteen, was cold and unsympathetic. He could not join the Ministry
without his friend, the Duke of St. Bungay, and as to Mr. Bonteen, he
thought that perhaps a better selection might be made.
Such were the club rumours which took place as to the difficulties
of the day, and, as is generally the case, they were not far from
the truth. Neither of the dukes had absolutely put a veto on poor Mr.
Bonteen's elevation, but they had expressed themselves dissatisfied
with the appointment, and the younger duke had found himself
called upon to explain that although he had been thrown much into
communication with Mr. Bonteen he had never himself suggested that
that gentleman should follow him at the Exchequer. This was one of
the many difficulties which beset the Prime Minister elect in the
performance of his arduous duty.
Lady Glencora, as people would still persist in calling her, was at
the bottom of it all. She had sworn an oath inimical to Mr. Bonteen,
and did not leave a stone unturned in her endeavours to accomplish
it. If Phineas Finn might find acceptance, then Mr. Bonteen might be
allowed to enter Elysium. A second Juno, she would allow the Romulus
she hated to sit in the seats of the blessed, to be fed with nectar,
and to have his name printed in the lists of unruffled Cabinet
meetings,--but only on conditions. Phineas Finn must be allowed a
seat also, and a little nectar,--though it were at the second table
of the gods. For this she struggled, speaking her mind boldly to this
and that member of her husband's party, but she struggled in vain.
She could obtain no assurance on behalf of Phineas Finn. The Duke of
St. Bungay would do nothing for her. Barrington Erle had declared
himself powerless. Her husband had condescended to speak to Mr.
Bonteen himself, and Mr. Bonteen's insolent answer had been reported
to her. Then she went sedulously to work, and before a couple of days
were over she did make her husband believe that Mr. Bonteen was not
fit to be Chancellor of the Exchequer. This took place before Mr.
Daubeny's statement, while the Duke and Duchess of St. Bungay were
still at Matching,--while Mr. Bonteen, unconscious of what was being
done, was still in the House. Before the two days were over, the Duke
of St. Bungay had a very low opinion of Mr. Bonteen, but was quite
ignorant of any connection between that low opinion and the fortunes
of Phineas Finn.
"Plantagenet, of all your men that are coming up, your Mr. Bonteen
is the worst. I often think that you are going down hill, both in
character and intellect, but if you go as low as that I shall prefer
to cross the water, and live in America." This she said in the
presence of the two dukes.
"What has Mr. Bonteen done?" asked the elder, laughing.
"He was boasting this morning openly of whom he intended to bring
with him into the Cabinet." Truth demands that the chronicler should
say that this was a positive fib. Mr. Bonteen, no doubt, had talked
largely and with indiscretion, but had made no such boast as that of
which the Duchess accused him. "Mr. Gresham will get astray if he
doesn't allow some one to tell him the truth."
She did not press the matter any further then, but what she had said
was not thrown away. "Your wife is almost right about that man," the
elder Duke said to the younger.
"It's Mr. Gresham's doing,--not mine," said the younger.
"She is right about Gresham, too," said the elder. "With all his
immense intellect and capacity for business no man wants more looking
after."
That evening Mr. Bonteen was singled out by the Duchess for her
special attention, and in the presence of all who were there
assembled he made himself an ass. He could not save himself from
talking about himself when he was encouraged. On this occasion he
offended all those feelings of official discretion and personal
reticence which had been endeared to the old duke by the lessons
which he had learned from former statesmen and by the experience of
his own life. To be quiet, unassuming, almost affectedly modest in
any mention of himself, low-voiced, reflecting always more than he
resolved, and resolving always more than he said, had been his aim.
Conscious of his high rank, and thinking, no doubt, much of the
advantages in public life which his birth and position had given him,
still he would never have ventured to speak of his own services as
necessary to any Government. That he had really been indispensable to
many he must have known, but not to his closest friend would he have
said so in plain language. To such a man the arrogance of Mr. Bonteen
was intolerable.
There is probably more of the flavour of political aristocracy to
be found still remaining among our liberal leading statesmen than
among their opponents. A conservative Cabinet is, doubtless, never
deficient in dukes and lords, and the sons of such; but conservative
dukes and lords are recruited here and there, and as recruits, are
new to the business, whereas among the old Whigs a halo of statecraft
has, for ages past, so strongly pervaded and enveloped certain great
families, that the power in the world of politics thus produced
still remains, and is even yet efficacious in creating a feeling of
exclusiveness. They say that "misfortune makes men acquainted with
strange bedfellows." The old hereditary Whig Cabinet ministers must,
no doubt, by this time have learned to feel themselves at home with
strange neighbours at their elbows. But still with them something of
the feeling of high blood, of rank, and of living in a park with deer
about it, remains. They still entertain a pride in their Cabinets,
and have, at any rate, not as yet submitted themselves to a conjuror.
The Charles James Fox element of liberality still holds its own, and
the fragrance of Cavendish is essential. With no man was this feeling
stronger than with the Duke of St. Bungay, though he well knew
how to keep it in abeyance,--even to the extent of self-sacrifice.
Bonteens must creep into the holy places. The faces which he loved to
see,--born chiefly of other faces he had loved when young,--could not
cluster around the sacred table without others which were much less
welcome to him. He was wise enough to know that exclusiveness did not
suit the nation, though human enough to feel that it must have been
pleasant to himself. There must be Bonteens;--but when any Bonteen
came up, who loomed before his eyes as specially disagreeable, it
seemed to him to be a duty to close the door against such a one, if
it could be closed without violence. A constant, gentle pressure
against the door would tend to keep down the number of the Bonteens.
"I am not sure that you are not going a little too quick in regard
to Mr. Bonteen," said the elder duke to Mr. Gresham before he had
finally assented to a proposition originated by himself,--that he
should sit in the Cabinet without a portfolio.
"Palliser wishes it," said Mr. Gresham, shortly.
"He and I think that there has been some mistake about that. You
suggested the appointment to him, and he felt unwilling to raise an
objection without giving the matter very mature consideration. You
can understand that."
"Upon my word I thought that the selection would be peculiarly
agreeable to him." Then the duke made a suggestion. "Could not some
special office at the Treasury be constructed for Mr. Bonteen's
acceptance, having special reference to the question of decimal
coinage?"
"But how about the salary?" asked Mr. Gresham. "I couldn't propose a
new office with a salary above £2,000."
"Couldn't we make it permanent," suggested the duke;--"with
permission to hold a seat if he can get one?"
"I fear not," said Mr. Gresham.
"He got into a very unpleasant scrape when he was Financial
Secretary," said the Duke.
But whither would'st thou, Muse? Unmeet
For jocund lyre are themes like these.
Shalt thou the talk of Gods repeat,
Debasing by thy strains effete
Such lofty mysteries?
The absolute words of a conversation so lofty shall no longer be
attempted, but it may be said that Mr. Gresham was too wise to
treat as of no account the objections of such a one as the Duke
of St. Bungay. He saw Mr. Bonteen, and he saw the other duke, and
difficulties arose. Mr. Bonteen made himself very disagreeable
indeed. As Mr. Bonteen had never absolutely been as yet more than a
demigod, our Muse, light as she is, may venture to report that he
told Mr. Ratler that "he'd be d---- if he'd stand it. If he were to
be thrown over now, he'd make such a row, and would take such care
that the fat should be in the fire, that his enemies, whoever they
were, should wish that they had kept their fingers off him. He knew
who was doing it." If he did not know, his guess was right. In his
heart he accused the young duchess, though he mentioned her name
to no one. And it was the young duchess. Then there was made an
insidious proposition to Mr. Gresham,--which reached him at last
through Barrington Erle,--that matters would go quieter if Phineas
Finn were placed in his old office at the Colonies instead of Lord
Fawn, whose name had been suggested, and for whom,--as Barrington
Erle declared,--no one cared a brass farthing. Mr. Gresham, when he
heard this, thought that he began to smell a rat, and was determined
to be on his guard. Why should the appointment of Mr. Phineas Finn
make things go easier in regard to Mr. Bonteen? There must be some
woman's fingers in the pie. Now Mr. Gresham was firmly resolved that
no woman's fingers should have anything to do with his pie.
How the thing went from bad to worse, it would be bootless here
to tell. Neither of the two dukes absolutely refused to join the
Ministry; but they were persistent in their objection to Mr. Bonteen,
and were joined in it by Lord Plinlimmon and Sir Harry Coldfoot. It
was in vain that Mr. Gresham urged that he had no other man ready
and fit to be Chancellor of the Exchequer. That excuse could not be
accepted. There was Legge Wilson, who twelve years since had been
at the Treasury, and would do very well. Now Mr. Gresham had always
personally hated Legge Wilson,--and had, therefore, offered him the
Board of Trade. Legge Wilson had disgusted him by accepting it, and
the name had already been published in connection with the office.
But in the lists which had appeared towards the end of the week, no
name was connected with the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer,
and no office was connected with the name of Mr. Bonteen. The editor
of The People's Banner, however, expressed the gratification of
that journal that even Mr. Gresham had not dared to propose Mr.
Phineas Finn for any place under the Crown.
At last Mr. Bonteen was absolutely told that he could not be
Chancellor of the Exchequer. If he would consent to give his very
valuable services to the country with the view of carrying through
Parliament the great measure of decimal coinage he should be
President of the Board of Trade,--but without a seat in the Cabinet.
He would thus become the Right Honourable Bonteen, which, no doubt,
would be a great thing for him,--and, not busy in the Cabinet,
must be able to devote his time exclusively to the great measure
above-named. What was to become of "Trade" generally, was not
specially explained; but, as we all know, there would be a
Vice-President to attend to details.
The proposition very nearly broke the man's heart. With a voice
stopped by agitation, with anger flashing from his eyes, almost in a
convulsion of mixed feelings, he reminded his chief of what had been
said about his appointment in the House. Mr. Gresham had already
absolutely defended it. After that did Mr. Gresham mean to withdraw
a promise that had so formally been made? But Mr. Gresham was not to
be caught in that way. He had made no promise;--had not even stated
to the House that such appointment was to be made. A very improper
question had been asked as to a rumour,--in answering which he
had been forced to justify himself by explaining that discussions
respecting the office had been necessary. "Mr. Bonteen," said
Mr. Gresham, "no one knows better than you the difficulties of a
Minister. If you can act with us I shall be very grateful to you. If
you cannot, I shall regret the loss of your services." Mr. Bonteen
took twenty-four hours to consider, and was then appointed President
of the Board of Trade without a seat in the Cabinet. Mr. Legge Wilson
became Chancellor of the Exchequer. When the lists were completed,
no office whatever was assigned to Phineas Finn. "I haven't done
with Mr. Bonteen yet," said the young duchess to her friend Madame
Goesler.
The secrets of the world are very marvellous, but they are not
themselves half so wonderful as the way in which they become known to
the world. There could be no doubt that Mr. Bonteen's high ambition
had foundered, and that he had been degraded through the secret
enmity of the Duchess of Omnium. It was equally certain that his
secret enmity to Phineas Finn had brought this punishment on his
head. But before the Ministry had been a week in office almost
everybody knew that it was so. The rumours were full of falsehood,
but yet they contained the truth. The duchess had done it. The
duchess was the bosom friend of Lady Laura Kennedy, who was in love
with Phineas Finn. She had gone on her knees to Mr. Gresham to get
a place for her friend's favourite, and Mr. Gresham had refused.
Consequently, at her bidding, half-a-dozen embryo Ministers--her
husband among the number--had refused to be amenable to Mr. Gresham.
Mr. Gresham had at last consented to sacrifice Mr. Bonteen, who had
originally instigated him to reject the claims of Phineas Finn. That
the degradation of the one man had been caused by the exclusion of
the other all the world knew.
"It shuts the door to me for ever and ever," said Phineas to Madame
Goesler.
"I don't see that."
"Of course it does. Such an affair places a mark against a man's name
which will never be forgotten."
"Is your heart set upon holding some trifling appointment under a
Minister?"
"To tell you the truth, it is;--or rather it was. The prospect of
office to me was more than perhaps to any other expectant. Even this
man, Bonteen, has some fortune of his own, and can live if he be
excluded. I have given up everything for the chance of something in
this line."
"Other lines are open."
"Not to me, Madame Goesler. I do not mean to defend myself. I have
been very foolish, very sanguine, and am now very unhappy."
"What shall I say to you?"
"The truth."
"In truth, then, I do not sympathise with you. The thing lost is too
small, too mean to justify unhappiness."
"But, Madame Goesler, you are a rich woman."
"Well?"
"If you were to lose it all, would you not be unhappy? It has been
my ambition to live here in London as one of a special set which
dominates all other sets in our English world. To do so a man
should have means of his own. I have none; and yet I have tried
it,--thinking that I could earn my bread at it as men do at other
professions. I acknowledge that I should not have thought so. No man
should attempt what I have attempted without means, at any rate to
live on if he fail; but I am not the less unhappy because I have been
silly."
"What will you do?"
"Ah,--what? Another friend asked me that the other day, and I told
her that I should vanish."
"Who was that friend?"
"Lady Laura."
"She is in London again now?"
"Yes; she and her father are in Portman Square."
"She has been an injurious friend to you."
"No, by heaven," exclaimed Phineas. "But for her I should never have
been here at all, never have had a seat in Parliament, never have
been in office, never have known you."
"And might have been the better without any of these things."
"No man ever had a better friend than Lady Laura has been to me.
Malice, wicked and false as the devil, has lately joined our names
together to the incredible injury of both of us; but it has not been
her fault."
"You are energetic in defending her."
"And so would she be in defending me. Circumstances threw us together
and made us friends. Her father and her brother were my friends.
I happened to be of service to her husband. We belonged to the
same party. And therefore--because she has been unfortunate in her
marriage--people tell lies of her."
"It is a pity he should--not die, and leave her," said Madame Goesler
slowly.
"Why so?"
"Because then you might justify yourself in defending her by making
her your wife." She paused, but he made no answer to this. "You are
in love with her," she said.
"It is untrue."
"Mr. Finn!"
"Well, what would you have? I am not in love with her. To me she is
no more than my sister. Were she as free as air I should not ask her
to be my wife. Can a man and woman feel no friendship without being
in love with each other?"
"I hope they may," said Madame Goesler. Had he been lynx-eyed he
might have seen that she blushed; but it required quick eyes to
discover a blush on Madame Goesler's face. "You and I are friends."
"Indeed we are," he said, grasping her hand as he took his leave.
VOLUME II.