EASY IS THE SLOPE OF HELL
The electors for the Tillietudlem district burghs, disgusted by the
roguery of Mr. M'Buffer, and anxiously on the alert to replace him by a
strictly honest man, returned our friend Undy by a glorious majority.
He had no less than 312 votes, as opposed to 297, and though threatened
with the pains and penalties of a petition, he was not a little elated
by his success. A petition with regard to the Tillietudlem burghs was
almost as much a matter of course as a contest; at any rate the threat
of a petition was so. Undy, however, had lived through this before, and
did not fear but that he might do so again. Threatened folks live long;
parliamentary petitions are very costly, and Undy's adversaries were, if
possible, even in more need of money than himself.
He communicated his good fortune to his friend Alaric in the following
letter:--
'Bellenden Arms, Tillietudlem, July, 185-.
'My DEAR DIRECTOR,
'Here I am once more a constituent part of the legislative wisdom of the
United Kingdom, thanks to the patriotic discretion of the pot-wallopers,
burgage-tenants, and ten-pound freeholders of these loyal towns. The
situation is a proud one; I could only wish that it had been less
expensive. I am plucked as clean as ever was pigeon; and over and above
the loss of every feather I carried, old M'Cleury, my agent here, will
have a bill against me that will hardly be settled before the next
election. I do not complain, however; a man cannot have luxuries without
paying for them; and this special luxury of serving one's country in
Parliament is one for which a man has so often to pay, without the
subsequent fruition of the thing paid for, that a successful candidate
should never grumble, however much he may have been mulcted. They
talk of a petition; but, thank God, there are still such things as
recognizances; and, moreover, to give M'Cleury his due, I do not think
he has left a hole open for them to work at. He is a thorough rascal,
but no man does better work.
'I find there is already a slight rise in the West Corks. Keep your eye
open. If you find you can realize £4 4s. or even £4, sell, and let the
West of Cork and Ballydehob go straight to the devil. We should then
be able to do better with our money. But I doubt of such a sale with
so large a stock as we hold. I got a letter yesterday from that Cork
attorney, and I find that he is quite prepared to give way about the
branch. He wants his price, of course; and he must have it. When once we
have carried that point, then it will be plain sailing; our only regret
then will be that we didn't go further into it. The calls, of course,
must be met; I shall be able to do something in October, but shall not
have a shilling sooner--unless I sell, which I will not do under 80s.
'I was delighted to hear of your promotion; not that you'll remain in
the shop long, but it gives you a better name and a better claim. Old
Golightly was buried yesterday, as of course you have heard. Mrs. Val
quite agrees with me that your name had better be put in as that of
Clem's trustee. She's going to marry that d---- Frenchman. What an
unmitigated ass that cousin of yours must be! I can't say I admire her
taste; but nevertheless she is welcome for me. It would, however, be
most scandalous if we were to allow him to get possession of her money.
He would, as a matter of course, make ducks and drakes of it in no time.
Speculate probably in some Russian railway, or Polish mine, and lose
every shilling. You will of course see it tied up tight in the hands of
the trustees, and merely pay him, or if possible her, the interest of
it. Now that I am once more in, I hope we shall be able to do something
to protect the fortunes of married women.
'You will be quite safe in laying out Clem's money, or a portion of it,
in the West Corks. Indeed, I don't know how you could well do better
with it. You will find Figgs a mere shadow. I think we can pull through
in this manner. If not we must get--to take our joint bill. He would
sooner do that than have the works stopped. But then we should have to
pay a tremendous price for it.
'So we were well out of the Mary Janes at last. The take last month was
next to nothing, and now she's full of water. Manylodes hung on till
just the last, and yet got out on his feet after all. That fellow will
make a mint of money yet. What a pity that he should be such a rogue!
If he were honest, honest enough I mean to be trusted, he might do
anything.
'I shall leave this on Wednesday night, take the oaths on Thursday, and
will see you in the evening. M'Carthy Desmond will at once move that I
be put on the West Cork Committee, in place of Nogo, who won't act. My
shares are all at present registered in Val's name. It will be well,
however, to have them all transferred to you.
'Yours ever,
'U.S.
'M'Cleury has pledged himself to put me in again without further
expense, if I have to stand before the next general election, in
consequence of taking place under Government. I earnestly hope his
sincerity may be tried.'
During the month of July, Alaric was busy enough. He had to do the work
of his new office, to attend to his somewhat critical duties as director
of the West Cork Railway, to look after the interests of Miss
Golightly, whose marriage was to take place in August, and to watch the
Parliamentary career of his friend Undy, with whose pecuniary affairs he
was now bound up in a manner which he could not avoid feeling to be very
perilous.
July passed by, and was now over, and members were looking to be
relieved from their sultry labours, and to be allowed to seek air and
exercise on the mountains. The Ballydehob branch line had received the
sanction of Parliament through the means which the crafty Undy had
so well understood how to use; but from some cause hitherto not
sufficiently fathomed, the shares had continued to be depressed in value
in spite of that desirable event. It was necessary, however, that calls
should be paid up to the amount of £5 a share, and as Undy and Alaric
held nearly a thousand shares between them, a large amount of money
was required. This, however, was made to be forthcoming from Miss
Golightly's fortune.
On the first of August that interesting young lady was married to the
man--shall we say of her heart or of her feet? The marriage went off
very nicely, but as we have already had one wedding, and as others
may perhaps be before us, we cannot spare much time or many pages to
describe how Miss Golightly became Madame Jaquêtanàpe. The lady seemed
well pleased with everything that was done, and had even in secret
but one care in the world. There was to be a dance after she and her
Victoire were gone, and she could not join in it!
We, however, are in the position, as regards Clementina, in which needy
gentlemen not unfrequently place themselves with reference to rich
heiresses. We have more concern with her money than herself. She was
married, and M. Jaquêtanàpe became the happy possessor of an income of
£800 a year. Everybody conceived him to behave well on the occasion.
He acknowledged that he had very little means of his own--about 4,000
francs a year, from rents in Paris. He expressed himself willing to
agree to any settlement, thinking, perhaps with wisdom, that he might in
this way best make sure of his wife's income, and was quite content
when informed that he would receive his quarterly payments from so
respectable a source as one of Her Majesty's Commissioners for the
regulation of the Civil Service. The Bank of France could not have
offered better security.
Thus Alaric obtained full control of Miss Golightly's fortune: for
Figgs, his co-trustee, was, as has been said, a shadow. He obtained the
full control of £20,000, and out of it he paid the calls due upon the
West Cork shares, held both by himself and Undy Scott. But he put a
salve upon his conscience, and among his private memoranda, appertaining
to that lady's money affairs he made an entry, intelligible to any who
might read it, that he had so invested this money on her behalf. The
entry was in itself a lie--a foolish, palpable lie--and yet he found in
it something to quiet remorse and stupefy his conscience.
Undy Scott had become tyrannical in his logic as soon as he had
persuaded Alaric to make use of a portion of Madame Jaquêtanàpe's
marriage portion. 'You have taken part of the girl's money,' was Undy's
argument; 'you have already converted to your own purposes so much of
her fortune; it is absurd for you now to talk of conscience and honesty,
of your high duties as a trustee, of the inviolable distinction between
meum and tuum. You have already shown that the distinction is not
inviolable; let us have no more such nonsense; there are still
left £15,000 on which we can trade; open the till, and let us go on
swimmingly with the business.'
Alaric was not addressed absolutely in these words; he would not
probably have allowed the veil with which he still shrouded his
dishonesty to be withdrawn with so rough a hand; but that which was said
was in effect the same. In September he left town for a few weeks and
went down to Scotland, still with Undy Scott. He had at first much
liked this man's society, for Scott was gay, lively, clever, and a good
companion at all points. But latterly he had become weary of him. He
now put up with him as men in business have to put up with partners whom
they may not like; or, perhaps, to speak the truth openly, he bore with
him as a rogue bears with his confederate, though he absolutely hates
his brother rogue on account of his very roguery. Alaric Tudor was now
a rogue; despite his high office, his grand ideas, his exalted ambition;
despite his talent, zeal, and well-directed official labours, he was a
rogue; a thief, a villain who had stolen the money of the orphan, who
had undertaken a trust merely that he might break it; a robber, doubly
disgraced by being a robber with an education, a Bill Sykes without any
of those excuses which a philanthropist cannot but make for wretches
brought up in infamy.
Alas, alas! how is it that in these days such men become rogues? How is
it that we see in such frightful instances the impotency of educated men
to withstand the allurements of wealth? Men are not now more keen after
the pleasures which wealth can buy than were their forefathers. One
would rather say that they are less so. The rich labour now, and work
with an assiduity that often puts to shame the sweat in which the poor
man earns his bread. The rich rogue, or the rogue that would be rich,
is always a laborious man. He allows himself but little recreation, for
dishonest labour admits of no cessation. His wheel is one which cannot
rest without disclosing the nature of the works which move it. It is not
for pleasure that men
Put rancours in the vessel of their peace;
nor yet primarily for ambition. Men do not wish to rise by treachery,
or to become great through dishonesty. The object, the ultimate object,
which a man sets before himself, is generally a good one. But he sets
it up in so enviable a point of view, his imagination makes it so richly
desirable, by being gazed at it becomes so necessary to existence,
that its attainment is imperative. The object is good, but the means of
attaining it--the path to the object--ah! there is the slip. Expediency
is the dangerous wind by which so many of us have wrecked our little
boats.
And we do so more now than ever, because great ships, swimming in
deepest waters, have unluckily come safe to haven though wafted there
by the same pernicious wind. Every great man, who gains a great end
by dishonest means, does more to deteriorate his country and lower the
standard of his countrymen than legions of vulgar thieves, or nameless
unaspiring rogues. Who has injured us so much in this way as he whose
name still stands highest among modern politicians? Who has given so
great a blow to political honesty, has done so much to banish from men's
minds the idea of a life-ruling principle, as Sir Robert Peel?
It would shock many were we to attribute to him the roguery of the
Sadleirs and Camerons, of the Robsons and Redpaths of the present day;
but could we analyse causes and effects, we might perhaps do so with no
injustice. He has taught us as a great lesson, that a man who has before
him a mighty object may dispense with those old-fashioned rules of truth
to his neighbours and honesty to his own principles, which should guide
us in ordinary life. At what point ordinary life ends, at what
crisis objects may be considered great enough to justify the use of a
dispensing power, that he has not taught us; that no Sir Robert Peel
can teach us; that must unfortunately be left to the judgement of the
individual. How prone we are, each of us, to look on our own object as
great, how ready to make excuses for receiving such a lesson for
our guide; how willing to think that we may be allowed to use this
dispensing power ourselves--this experience teaches us in very plain
language.
Thrice in his political life did Sir Robert Peel change his
political creed, and carry, or assist to carry, with more or less of
self-gratulation, the measures of his adversaries. Thrice by doing so
he kept to himself that political power which he had fairly forfeited
by previous opposition to the requirements of his country. Such an
apposition of circumstances is at any rate suspicious. But let us give
him credit for the expression of a true belief; of a belief at first
that the corn-laws should be maintained, and then of a belief that they
should not; let us, with a forced confidence in his personal honesty,
declare so much of him; nevertheless, he should surely have felt, had he
been politically as well as personally honest, that he was not the man
to repeal them.
But it was necessary, his apologist will say, that the corn-laws should
be repealed; he saw the necessity, and yielded to it. It certainly was
necessary, very necessary, very unavoidable; absolutely necessary one
may say; a fact, which the united efforts of all the Peels of the day
could in nowise longer delay, having already delayed it to the utmost
extent of their power. It was essential that the corn-laws should be
repealed; but by no means essential that this should be done by Sir
Robert Peel.
It was a matter of indifference to us Englishmen who did the deed. But
to Sir Robert Peel it was a matter of great moment that he should do
it. He did it, and posterity will point at him as a politician without
policy, as a statesman without a principle, as a worshipper at the altar
of expediency, to whom neither vows sworn to friends, nor declarations
made to his country, were in any way binding. Had Sir Robert Peel lived,
and did the people now resolutely desire that the Church of England
should be abandoned, that Lords and Commons should bow the neck, that
the Crown should fall, who can believe that Sir Robert Peel would not
be ready to carry out their views? Readers, it may be that to you such
deeds as those are horrible even to be thought of or expressed; to me
I own that they are so. So also to Sir Robert Peel was Catholic
Emancipation horrible, so was Reform of Parliament, so was the Corn Law
Repeal. They were horrible to him, horrible to be thought of, horrible
to be expressed. But the people required these measures, and therefore
he carried them, arguing on their behalf with all the astuteness of a
practised statesman.
That Sir Robert Peel should be a worshipper of expediency might be
matter of small moment to any but his biographer, were it not that we
are so prone to copy the example of those whose names are ever in our
mouths. It has now become the doctrine of a large class of politicians
that political honesty is unnecessary, slow, subversive of a man's
interests, and incompatible with quick onward movement. Such a doctrine
in politics is to be deplored; but alas! who can confine it to politics?
It creeps with gradual, but still with sure and quick motion, into all
the doings of our daily life. How shall the man who has taught himself
that he may be false in the House of Commons, how shall he be true in
the Treasury chambers? or if false there, how true on the Exchange? and
if false there, how shall he longer have any truth within him?
And thus Alaric Tudor had become a rogue, and was obliged, as it were in
his own defence, to consort with a rogue. He went down to Scotland with
Undy, leaving his wife and child at home, not because he could thus
best amuse his few leisure days, but because this new work of his,
this laborious trade of roguery, allowed him no leisure days. When can
villany have either days or hours of leisure?
Among other things to be done in the north, Alaric was to make
acquaintance with the constituents of the little borough of Strathbogy,
which it was his ambition to represent in the next Parliament.
Strathbogy was on the confines of the Gaberlunzie property; and indeed
the lord's eldest son, who was the present member, lived almost within
the municipal boundary. Ca'stocks Cottage, as his residence was called,
was but a humble house for a peer's eldest son; but Mr. Scott was not
ashamed to live there, and there for a while he entertained his brother
Undy and Alaric Tudor. Mr. Scott intended, when the present session was
over, to retire from the labours of parliamentary life. It may be that
he thought that he had done enough for his country; it may be that the
men of Strathbogy thought that he had not done enough for them; it may
be that there was some family understanding between him and his brother.
This, however, was clear, that he did not intend to stand again himself,
and that he professed himself ready to put forward Alaric Tudor as a
worthy successor, and to give him the full benefit and weight of the
Gaberlunzie interest.
But not for nothing was Alaric to receive such important assistance.
'There are but 312 electors altogether,' said Undy one morning as
they went out shooting, 'and out of these we can command a hundred and
twenty. It must be odd if you cannot get enough outsiders to turn them
into a majority. Indeed you may look on it as a certain seat. No man in
England or Scotland could give you one more certain.'
This was not the first occasion on which Undy had spoken of all that he
was doing for his friend, and Alaric therefore, somewhat disgusted with
the subject, made no reply.
'I never had things made so easy for me when I wasn't in,' continued
Undy; 'nor have I ever found them so easy since. I don't suppose it will
cost you above £500, or at most £600, altogether.'
'Well, that will be a comfort,' said Alaric.
'A comfort! why I should say it would. What with the election and
petition together, Tillietudlem never cost me less than £2,000. It cost
me just as much, too, when I was thrown out.'
'That was a bore for you,' said Alaric.
'Upon my word you take it rather coolly,' said Undy; 'another man would
thank a fellow for putting such a nice thing in his way.'
'If the obligation be so deep,' said Alaric, becoming very red in the
face, 'I would rather not accept it. It is not too late for you to
take the cheaper seat to yourself, if you prefer it; and I will look
elsewhere.'
'Oh, of course; perhaps at Tillietudlem; but for Heaven's sake, my dear
fellow, don't let us quarrel about it. You are perfectly welcome to
whatever assistance we can give you at Strathbogy. I only meant to say
that I hope it will be efficacious. And on the score of expense I'll
tell you what we'll do--that is, if you think that fair; we'll put the
cost of the two elections together, and share and share alike.'
'Considering that the election will not take place for at least more
than twelve months, there will be time enough to settle that,' said
Alaric.
'Well, that's true, too,' said Undy; and then they went on, and for some
time separated on the mountain, complaining, when they met again, of
the game being scarce and the dogs wild, as men always do. But as they
walked home, Undy, who regretted the loss of good time, again began
about money matters.
'How many of those bridge shares will you take?' said he. This was a
projected bridge from Poplar to Rotherhithe, which had been got up by
some city gentlemen, and as to which Undy Scott was, or pretended to be,
very sanguine.
'None,' said Alaric. 'Unless I can get rid of those confounded West Cork
and Ballydehobs, I can buy nothing more of anything.'
'Believe me, my dear fellow, the Ballydehobs are no such confounded
things at all. If you are ever a rich man it will be through the
Ballydehobs. But what you say about the bridge shares is nonsense. You
have a large command of capital, and you cannot apply it better.'
Alaric winced, and wished in his heart that Clementina Jaquêtanàpe,
_née_ Golightly, with all her money, was buried deep in the bogs of
Ballydehob. Though he was a rogue, he could not yet bear his roguery
with comfort to himself. It sat, however, as easy on Undy as though he
had been to the manner born.
'I have no capital now at my disposal,' said he; 'and I doubt whether I
should be doing right to lay out a ward's money in such a manner.'
A slight smile came over Undy's gay unconcerned features; it was very
slight, but nevertheless it was very eloquent and very offensive also.
Alaric understood it well; it made him hate the owner of it, but it made
him hate himself still more.
'It is as well to be hung for a sheep as for a lamb,' said Undy's smile;
'and, moreover,' continued the smile, 'is it not ridiculous enough for
you, Alaric Tudor, rogue as you are, to profess to me, Undy Scott, rogue
as I am, any solicitude as to your ward's welfare, seeing that you
have already taken to yourself, for your own dishonest purposes, a
considerable slice of the fortune that has been trusted to your keeping?
You have done this, and yet you talk to me of not having capital at your
disposal! You have capital, and you will dispose of that capital for
your own purposes, as long as a shilling remains uninvested of your
ward's money. We are both rogues. God knows it, and you and I know it;
but I am not such a hypocritical rogue as to make mock boasts of my
honesty to my brother rogue.'
This was certainly a long speech to have been made by a smile which
crossed Mr. Scott's face but for a moment, but every word of it was
there expressed, and every word of it was there read. Alaric did not at
all like being addressed so uncivilly. It seemed to tend but little to
that 'Excelsior' for which his soul panted; but what could he do? how
could he help himself? Was it not all true? could he contradict the
smile? Alas! it was true; it was useless for him now to attempt even
to combat such smiles. 'Excelsior,' indeed! his future course might now
probably be called by some very different designation. Easy, very easy,
is the slope of hell.
Before they had returned to Ca'stocks Cottage, Undy had succeeded in
persuading his friend that the game must be played on--on and on, and
out. If a man intends to make a fortune in the share-market he
will never do it by being bold one day and timid the next. No turf
betting-book can be made up safely except on consistent principles.
Half-measures are always ruinous. In matters of speculation one attempt
is made safe by another. No man, it is true, can calculate accurately
what may be the upshot of a single venture; but a sharp fellow may
calculate with a fair average of exactness what will be the aggregate
upshot of many ventures. All mercantile fortunes have been made by the
knowledge and understanding of this rule. If a man speculates but once
and again, now and then, as it were, he must of course be a loser. He
will be playing a game which he does not understand, and playing it
against men who do understand it. Men who so play always lose. But he
who speculates daily puts himself exactly in the reversed position. He
plays a game which experience teaches him to play well, and he plays
generally against men who have no such advantage. Of course he wins.
All these valuable lessons did Undy Scott teach to Alaric Tudor, and
the result was that Alaric agreed to order--for self and partner--a
considerable number of shares in the Limehouse Bridge Company. Easy,
very easy, is the slope of hell.
And then in the evening, on this evening and other evenings, on all
evenings, they talked over the prospects of the West Cork and Ballydehob
branch, and of the Limehouse Bridge, which according to Undy's theory
is destined to work quite a revolution in the East-end circles of the
metropolis. Undy had noble ideas about this bridge. The shares at the
present moment were greatly at a discount--so much the better, for they
could be bought at a cheaper rate; and they were sure to rise to some
very respectable figure as soon as Undy should have played out with
reference to them the parliamentary game which he had in view.
And so from morning to morning, and from night to night, they talked
over their unholy trade till the price of shares and the sounds of sums
of money entered into Alaric's soul. And this, perhaps, is one of the
greatest penalties to which men who embark in such trade are doomed,
that they can never shake off the remembrance of their calculations;
they can never drop the shop; they have no leisure, no ease; they can
never throw themselves with loose limbs and vacant mind at large upon
the world's green sward, and call children to come and play with them.
At the Weights and Measures Alaric's hours of business had been from ten
to five. In Undy's office they continued from one noon till the next,
incessantly; even in his dreams he was working in the share market.
On his return to town Alaric found a letter from Captain Cuttwater,
pressing very urgently for the repayment of his money. It had been lent
on the express understanding that it was to be repaid when Parliament
broke up. It was now the end of October, and Uncle Bat was becoming
uneasy.
Alaric, when he received the letter, crushed it in his hand, and cursed
the strictness of the man who had done so much for him. On the next day
another slice was taken from the fortune of Madame Jaquêtanàpe; and his
money, with the interest, was remitted to Captain Cuttwater.